To Be A Turk
by GoldenShinyWireofHope
Summary: Embittered by the events of Crisis Core and the demands of ShinRa, Tseng struggles to come to terms with what it really means to be a Turk.
1. Pledged to the company

**A.N. This fic is posted as a sequel to my first fanfic **_**Aftermath**_**, but it doesn't matter if you haven't read it. Everything you need to know will be explained int he first two chapters.  
**

**For those of you who have read Aftermath, this is one of a number of sequels that I intend to write from the perspective of various characters in that story. You may have guessed that this one is written from the perspective of the Turks.**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

**Thanks to my husband for plot help and to everyone who asked for a sequel to Aftermath.**

**Disclaimer: As I'm sure you are aware, this is only fanfic. I don't own any of the characters or settings in this story.**

* * *

To Be a Turk

30th September 2007

The midday sun was high in the sky over Midgar, but the blank metallic walls of the ShinRa building cast a dim light over the office. An imposing central desk loomed before the sealed window, casting its shadow into the room, and through the tired eyes of the man who sat behind it, the space held a gloomy stillness that was unnatural for this time of day.

It occurred to the man, as he reflected, that this room, the building, Midgar itself; all of them had taken on a bleaker aspect over the past few days. Perhaps it was the weight of sleep that hung around him, or maybe it was something else. Perhaps the sombre realisation of just what his role entailed had spilled over into the landscape, rippling not just through his own mind, but out into the world that he inhabited. As if its years of offences had at last begun to weigh upon its shoulders. Midgar had finally realised what it had to answer for. And so had Tseng.

The shrill sound of his ringing phone startled Tseng from his contemplation. Wearily he reached across his desk for the receiver.

"Tseng, Head of Investigations" He answered in a flat monotone.

A deep but oily voice sounded through the phone line. Its tone carried a warning of its own. "I think it's a good idea that you come to my office Tseng."

The leader of the Turks snapped to attention. There was no mistaking that voice. A cold apprehension began to squeeze at his chest.

"I'll come right away Sir."

"Excellent" the voice replied, insincerity almost dripping through the receiver before the line went dead.

The tuneless hum of the dial tone rang in Tseng's ears long before he finally placed the receiver on to its base. So the time had come. He'd hoped he could delay this. It would have been so easy. The three of them could have covered her work, and the President rarely asked to meet with his more lowly subordinates. If it wasn't for the problem of those cameras… Cissnei had made things so difficult for herself. But Tseng couldn't help but respect her for it.

* * *

Tseng stepped out of the elevator on to the top floor corridor of the Shinra building and rapped on the office door.

"Come in."

The President of the ShinRa Company looked up from the papers on his desk.

"Ah. Tseng. I assume you know what this is about."

"I think I do, Sir."

"That was an interesting report you sent to the military General." President Shinra began, false joviality oozing from every pore. "The Sergeant in question denies the entire incident. He seems to think the intercom and rifle were taken from him by a SOLDIER wanting to know more about our Nibelheim escapees."

Tseng's palms were beginning to sweat, but not a hint of anxiety crept into his countenance. He gave his answer with an air of well rehearsed detachment. "Rude told me that a SOLDIER operative found the rifle and the destroyed intercom. I have no reason to disbelieve him."

The President scrutinized Tseng with no attempt to hide his suspicion. "And I assume you can explain how an _intruder _knew the whereabouts of our security cameras?"

Tseng held his performance flawlessly. A look of regret flashed momentarily in his eyes and the smallest hint of a frown began to furrow his brow. "Actually Sir I think I can explain that." He gave a perfectly measured sigh. "Cissnei did not attend a meeting with me this morning, and I have since learnt that she did not carry out the mission that I set her last night. I've been trying to contact her since then..."

The feigned smile dropped instantly from the President's face. "Are you telling me that you have a renegade Turk?" His cheeks, usually flushed red as a result of his overindulgent lifestyle, were rapidly turning a deep shade of puce.

"I'm hoping that it's not the case, Sir, but…"

"Find her immediately! All your other duties are cancelled! I want her shot on sight!"

President Shinra's chubby arms flailed around wildly. He looked as though he was liable to explode, but Tseng responded only with his usual calm professionalism. This was nothing he hadn't seen before. He gave a sharp nod.

"Of course Sir. I'll inform my staff immediately."

As his superior continued to rant about Tseng's negligence and the threat that Cissnei could be to the company, the Turks' leader simply nodded in acquiescence until the President finally waved his dismissal. Tseng shut the door to the office, leaving the President still muttering angrily. He frowned at the metal door as he waited silently for the elevator. He would have to think very carefully about his next move.

* * *

On a lower floor of the same building, the weapons department's chief technician was fidgeting nervously as he stood facing his superior. He stumbled through his progress report as his boss tapped perfectly manicured fingernails against her varnished desk. Beads of sweat were beginning to form at his temples. The technician scowled inwardly at his own agitation. He was a respected professional, and within minutes she'd had him blathering like an idiot. The Boss tended to have that effect on people. This should have been his proudest moment. The Techno SOLDIER would be a breakthrough in weapons development technology, a real feather in the cap of ShinRa's armoury. It only stood to reason that it would take time to ensure that it was entirely combat ready. But unfortunately Scarlet was not a reasonable employer.

The technician breathed a barely concealed sigh of relief as the ringing phone brought an abrupt but welcome end to his progress report.

"Come back when you have something interesting to say." Scarlet told him, waving dismissively at the door. Her employee nodded gratefully and left in a hurry.

"Scarlet" President Shinra's voice slithered down the phone line. "I have an urgent job for you."

As Scarlet listened intently to the President a cruel smile crept slowly across her face. This was a job she was going to enjoy.

"Do you understand?" asked President Shinra at last

"Yes I do" Scarlet answered silkily. "I will begin immediately."

The President grunted his approval.

"They won't make it easy for you" he warned. "Deception is the Turk's business. I'm asking you to beat them at their own game."

"Don't worry Sir" Scarlet answered, relishing each word as they dripped from her lips. She tossed a few strands of sleek blonde hair over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. "I think I can manage to be devious."


	2. Quick to the chase

Slowly emerging from behind the mountains, the sun was spreading its arms wide, as if to yawn out over the eastern continent. This new, clear day had broken as a strange interruption to the intermittent rains of the early autumn. In one room, high up in a wooden tower, an unbroken stream of sunlight was pouring through a paneless window, stirring one young woman prematurely from her sleep.

Cissnei shifted on her thin mattress as consciousness began to nudge at her. She wiped a hand across her half closed eyes, trying to adjust to the light forcing its way into her small room. She clutched her blanket around her. Everything was brighter than she'd expected.

Reaching with one arm to the floor she grasped at the loose blouse and long skirt that lay folded at the side of her bed. She slipped them on, making her way to the window. Just outside of the settlement she could see a small burnt patch of grassland, standing out like a scar on the otherwise perfect landscape. So it wasn't a dream. She had really stood there last night, staring into the flames as they danced their merciless dance.

She remembered everything so vividly. The way that she had so carefully unpacked her hold-all. One by one she'd taken out each item: her uniform; her PHS; the cameras. All were laid out onto the timber, ready for the blaze. She had lingered for a moment over each piece, trying to come to terms with what she had decided to do.

She remembered the thoughts that had run through her head. She'd held her jacket, a little crumpled by then from the journey, in her open palms. She'd worn it, or others like it, every day. Now, suddenly and without warning, she'd never wear it again. Silently, she'd placed it on to the logs that she'd gathered earlier that day.

She'd dipped into the bag once more, this time taking out her PHS. She'd run her fingers over the smooth metal and plastic, her reflection just visible in the polished surface. That had been her last link to her old life. But it had seemed somehow inadequate; the path she had chosen bore far more significance than could possibly be conveyed by these few remaining objects. Her life, as long as she could remember, had been tied up with ShinRa. She was a child when the company had taken her in, and they'd been kind to her. There were so many friendships that she'd made over the years, so many people that she would never see again. Everyone she knew was connected in some way to the company. When these last few remnants of who she'd used to be were consumed, she'd be completely alone.

It had been all she could do, in that moment, to keep herself from flipping open the phone she was still holding, and franticly punching in the number of Tseng's secure line. Maybe it was not too late; the company might not have been alerted yet. Maybe there was still time to forget all this madness and return to how things were. But the memory of the two items remaining in her holdall had prodded at the back of her mind, so she'd pressed on.

Almost as soon the tips of her fingers had touched the final objects for the fire, understanding had returned. She'd remembered again the exhilarated courage she'd had when she'd first removed these from Sector 8. Taking one of the tiny cameras in between the thumb and forefinger of each hand it felt as if they'd sent forth a dozen old memories surging beneath her skin, every one screaming its justification for what she'd decided to do. These had stored data that showed one of Zack's friends accosting a military sergeant for news of Zack's fate. She'd taken these them to protect him. As far as the company were concerned his actions were rebellious. Who knows what the punishment would have been? Firing? Death? Worse?

A familiar sensation had squeezed at her chest as she'd remembered the lengths that ShinRa had been prepared to go to before. She'd remembered catching sight of Zack on the beach near Nibelheim; she'd remembered the realisation that had trampled without remorse over her naïve perceptions of ShinRa and their motives. She'd remembered looking fearfully into his eyes that day, not allowing herself to wonder how he'd been treated for all those years in the lab. And she remembered Reno's report of his body, bloodied and abandoned on the battlefield. That was why she was leaving ShinRa.

She hadn't even realised she was crying until she felt the splash of her own teardrops as they fell upon her arms and hands. She'd bowed her head then, her chest heaving in silent sobs. And, finally, slowly, she'd placed the phone and cameras on top of her folded uniform. And she'd set them all ablaze.

It had been so much darker then, deep clouds had hung overhead, heavy with the threat of rain. She'd stood with her back to the settlement, so the only light she could see for miles was the cruel flickering of the fire, as it lapped menacingly at the atmosphere around it. But in such a short space of time, the fire, the rain clouds, the weighty sorrow that hung from Cissnei's shoulders; all were gone. It was as if all the hurt and grief of the night before had become somehow bound up in the murky sky and shattered with the breaking morning.

Looking out over the charred earth now, it was hard to believe it was the same place. The scorch marks were unattractive, perhaps, but now, with the sun shining valiantly over the area, it didn't hold any of the misery it had the night before. It was no longer a symbol of the end of her life with ShinRa. In fact, it was something else all together.

It was a new start.

--

The room had been thoroughly swept for bugs, any phone calls had been made on his PHS, on a secure line, and he was meeting his staff in Kalm, away from Midgar and Shinra's surveillance. Tseng had taken every precaution that could possibly be needed, but still he couldn't prevent his stomach from somersaulting as he waited for the others to arrive.

He pulled a chair from under the table near the windowsill and sat down. Leaning forward, he ran a hand over his hair, breathing deeply to try to calm his worries. True, he shouldn't underestimate ShinRa. He wasn't foolish enough to think that their powers of investigation began and ended with the Turks. The President's influence, whether born out of respect or fear, spread virtually across the whole of Gaia. There were few powers in existence that ShinRa couldn't tap into if they so chose. If things developed that way, they would be a devastating opponent.

But neither should he underestimate his own powers. Many years of service with the Turks had taught him how to cover his tracks. And more importantly it had given him quite an insight into how Shinra handled their operations.

"So," Reno declared, bursting through the door of the inn, "What's with the change of location, boss? Not that I'm complaining… you should get some of these comfy touches for your office."

He bounced on to the bed in the corner.

Tseng smiled. "I'm glad that you approve. Come in, Rude."

Rude moved to sit on the other single bed, as Tseng turned his chair to face them.

Reno fidgeted on the mattress. His professionalism, such as it was, was battling his curiosity. It didn't take long for curiosity to prevail. "Boss. You've got us meeting off base, using secure phone lines… you gonna tell us what's going on?"

Tseng met Reno's questioning gaze for a moment before looking to the floor. He sighed. "It's about time that both of you knew."

Tseng met each man's eyes in turn. "Cissnei has left the Turks."

Reno's jaw dropped. "Not because of the SOLDIER boy?"

He stared expectantly at Tseng, but there was no answer to be found in his boss' expression.

"Cissnei wasn't comfortable with the company's agenda, but we're not here to interrogate her motives. I'm sure you both know the danger that she's in."

Tseng didn't expect a response. Reno and Rude knew as well as he did the penalty for leaving the Turks. At any rate, the tense silence that had fallen in the room was answer enough.

Eyes wide, Reno could only splutter in amazement. Even when his powers of speech finally returned, he could manage only, "Why would she…?"

"It's none of our business" answered Rude firmly before Tseng had the chance to speak. He looked to his superior. "What do we do?"


	3. Know their enemies

1st October 2007

Scarlet flashed her keycard through the terminal outside her office, relieved to be finished with her inspection of the weapons development team. It was tragically menial of course, but on another day she would have enjoyed it, if only to see the way her employees stuttered their speech and fumbled their work when they knew she was watching. People could be so weak. Today as the chief technician offered up yet more excuses for the incessant delays to the Techno SOLDIER, he had almost rubbed holes in his gloves, he had wrung his hands so frequently. Shortly after that one of the new assistants had attached saw blades to the wrong ends of the arms of a chain machine posted to guard the ShinRa building. Scarlet had commented icily that unless the plan was to kill intruders by drowning them in mako, maybe he should consider placing them somewhere other than beside the main fuel chambers. What imbeciles! She knew how to whip them into shape of course, but that didn't stop her enjoying a little amusement at their expense beforehand. Not today though. Today their stupidity was vexing, and the inspection little more than a chore. Today was one of those rare occasions in which something had really sparked her interest. And it afforded a great deal more promise than anything that any of the dimwits on her staff could present to her.

She glided across the room and, tossing silky locks away from her face, sat down elegantly in a chair in front of her computer. She leaned back with a smile as she found the page she wanted. With her executive access she could tap into the personnel files of any employee of ShinRa inc., past or present. It didn't take her long to find the one she wanted. Tseng. Given the target in question, this assignment would be interesting, whatever happened. But if she could take down Tseng and his blockheads with the target, well, that would be simply delicious.

With a tap of the mouse she called his file to the screen. Flawless. It stood to reason. Tseng was boring. Always one to tow the company line. Still, she knew he had a weakness, even if his file on the database was not prepared to confess it. From the moment he'd taken his position as the head of the Turks, he'd been far too ready to indulge the whims of subordinates. He was entirely incapable of exacting any kind of discipline; otherwise that red headed monstrosity wouldn't have got away with thwarting uniform regulations for all these years. He'd even been known to allow failed assignments to go entirely unpunished. Unthinkable. No, he wouldn't pass up the chance to help this girl. Which was going to make things all the more interesting…

But how to catch them? Scarlet would have liked to think that Tseng would lead her straight to the target. But she knew him too well for that. He was good at his job, a fact she would most likely have refused to admit in any other situation, but this time it was worth being realistic about what she would have to stand against. If she could manage to get this right it would all be wonderfully worthwhile. So, biting back her disgust, she tried to think like Tseng. He wasn't stupid enough to believe he wouldn't be followed; most likely he would insist upon some kind of disguise…

Scarlet sat immediately to attention. Exhilaration flashing in her eyes. She had it. A cruel smile curled her upper lip. Tseng's little underlings had weaknesses too. How delightful to use them against them. But would they be brainless enough to fall for it? She could well believe it. And it didn't matter anyway. The plan could always be adapted if it didn't work in the first instance.

She turned back to the monitor, trawling this time through past personnel files. A wide but somehow ominous smile spread slowly across her face when, at last, she found the one she wanted. Excellent. Next she'd need some sort of costume maker. ShinRa kept directories for their employees with details of local businesses. Perhaps there would be something useful here… Ah. Perfect. She reached across her desk for her phone and tapped in the number as she read it from the screen. A devious glint in her eyes, she spoke into the receiver.

"Hello. Yes. I need you to make me a wig."

She frowned in irritation as the assistant began to reel off what seemed to be their entire stock of hairpieces.

"No no no!" She snapped impatiently. "I'm not interested in any of your childish fancy dress. I want you to make me something specific. I am a ShinRa executive. This is extremely important."

Alarmed by her severe tone and her position in the ShinRa Company, the assistant stammered something about going to get a manager and from the sound of it, shuffled away from the receiver as fast as she could. So it wasn't just her department who couldn't stand a little intimidation. How irritating. There were things that needed to be done!

At least when the manager came to the phone she sounded a little more coherent. Scarlet gave a painstakingly through description of what she wanted, explaining in melodic tones that time was of the essence and that, no, money was absolutely no object. At that the manager, obviously keen to make a quick profit, leapt to attention, frantically checking and double checking all of Scarlet's requests.

As the conversation drew to a close there was a tentative knock at the door. It was the chief technician, ready to begin his, usual act of shuffling and mumbling the latest developments, if one could call them that, with the Techno SOLDIER.

Scarlet rolled her eyes at the sight of him. This was the last thing she needed. She was about to wave him away with some critical remark, when a thought struck her.

"How small could you make a microphone and transmitter?" She asked, ignoring his progress report.

He stumbled, thrown off guard by the abrupt change of subject.

"I… um… A microphone?"

"And a transmitter, yes." She answered, impatience creeping into her tone.

"Does this have to do with the Techno SOLDIER?"

"Never you mind what it has to do with!" snapped Scarlet in a voice that made the technician start in surprise. She had cold sarcasm down to a fine art, but she rarely raised her voice. Scarlet breathed deeply, clenching her hands into fists in an attempt to reign in her frustration. She was too close to allow over eagerness to frustrate her plans. She tried again, this time drawing upon her more usual deceptive sweetness.

"Perhaps you could just answer my question?" She flashed perfectly white teeth in a dangerous smile. "How small could you make a microphone and a transmitter?"

"A-As small as you like, given enough time. With the technology at Sh-ShinRa we could make the as small as a p-pin head." He breathed, relieved to have made it to the end of the sentence. Sweat was pouring down face.

"Excellent. You have until the end of the day."

The technician was confused. "B-but…" he began.

But Scarlet was already waving towards the door.

"Get whomever you want to help you. The mechanoids can wait. It's not like any of you ever achieve anything of interest."

If he had been stood before anyone else, the technician would have taken exception to that, and most likely have been tempted to argue his case. But as usual Scarlet had thoroughly wrong footed and humiliated him, and all other emotion had been swallowed up by the overwhelming desire to reach for the door. So, as usual, he made his bumbling exit, still nodding gratefully and muttering inane thank yous.

Entirely satisfied, Scarlet sat back in her chair, that treacherous smile curling once more across her face. Soon all she would have to do was wait for him to take the bait. How glorious. It looked as if the Turks were going to lead her to her target after all. She began to chuckle a menacing chuckle. It wasn't long until shrill and manic laughter rang out across the entire 66th floor.


	4. Masters of Disguise

**A.N. Hi everyone. I don't usually use author's notes except at the very start of a story unless I can help it, but this time I do have a couple of things to apologise for. Firstly I know I've kept you waiting far too long for this update. Things have been a little hectic recently and I've had so much trouble writing the first scene in this chapter. I've scrapped and rewritten it so many times, but I think I'm finally happy with it now (I hope you are too!) Just a quick warning on the same note: I start my final year of Uni this week so, although I'll do my best to get chapters our quickly, it might take me a little longer from here on it.**

**The other thing is that I appear to have been struck by an acute bout of stupidity. I found two really inane things that I got wrong in previous chapters. **

**1. The dates so far had all been in the year 2006. It should have been 2007.**

**2. Wherever I'd written "the western continent" I should have put "the eastern continent".**

**The crazy thing is I did use a timeline and world map for dates and locations so it's not even a lack of research that's to blame, just a temporary inability to read dates or differentiate between compass points. What an idiot!**

**Anyway, it's all rectified now, but I wanted to leave a note for anyone who's been reading up until this point and might have been confused by the sudden change.**

**Hope you enjoy this ****chapter and thank you for reading!**

* * *

1st October 2007

From the window in the corner of the room, Cissnei could already see the sun beginning to set as she said goodbye to the final customer of her first day of work. The day had started out so brightly, but clouds had begun to gather now that night was looming. They hung so heavily in the sky now that they were multiplied by the shadows cast from the fiery light of the low sun. A testament to the coming winter, her host would have said, a precursor of harder times to come.

She scanned the face of the customer one last time before he turned to leave the shop. If he'd recognised her there was certainly no hint of it in his expression. But could she ever know for sure? People passed through the settlement every day, it was a stop off point for people on their travels. That was largely why businesses like this one were able to stay afloat. But it also meant that Cissnei would come into contact with people from all over the world; from Midgar maybe, was there really any hope that she wouldn't be discovered?

She slumped forward in her chair, both hands at her temples. It would be so nice, so wonderfully easy, to think that she could just find a place like this and start again. But the initial buzz of getting away had all but completely worn off as the day had gone on. She'd cursed herself time and again for coming to possibly the one place on the Planet that was almost entirely populated by former ShinRa staff. But was there anywhere on Gaia that ShinRa didn't have interests? Their power stretched out across the Planet like a tight net; branches connected every place the Company deemed worthy of note. And given the choice she'd rather take the ex-engineers and mechanics of this settlement than the executives or military forces that might come to visit the larger towns or villages.

She looked up with a start to see Mr. Grice, her employer and landlord, standing at the doorway. She instinctively grabbed a jar of metal polish and jumped up to take a longsword from its mount on the wall. Had he seen her sitting when she should have been working? If he had he didn't respond to it.

"Riaela." He beamed at her.

She flashed a smile at him, but her eyes were heavy with regret. _Riaela. _Another name, another lie. It would be a long time yet until she could just be herself. If she ever could.

Her host made his way over to Cissnei as she sat at the desk, rubbing stiffly at the sword now with a soft cloth. He held up the object in his hand to explain his presence.

"Just bringing up the latest of my creations."

Cissnei's breath caught in her chest as she looked up. Gleaming in his left hand was a brand new shuriken.

"Can I have a look?" she asked, her voice strained.

Mr. Grice nodded, still smiling, and held out the weapon for Cissnei to take.

She paused; hesitant for a moment before taking hold of it, but as her fingers closed around the cold steel she gave a soft gasp. The materials used to make it were, of course, inferior to those available to ShinRa, she could tell just by looking at it, but the weighting was just… perfect. It was a fine weapon.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped still harder. Sharp shocks of memories seemed to almost spark out from the metal. Her throat was tightening. _This feels so right_. Frowning in concentration, and keeping her grip tight on the steel, swung it out as if to throw, before realising that her host was looking at her quizzically.

Cissnei's eyes fell to her feet.

"I used to have one of these. For protection, when I was travelling" she mumbled.

Mr. Grice smiled. "Ah, so you're a fan. I'm a little surprised actually. I only really made this in case we get any specialists. Most people go for swords or guns."

"I always liked shurikens." She said softly, holding out the weapon for Mr. Grice to take back. "It's beautiful. Really."

"Well, I'm glad you like it" Mr Grice answered, fixing the mount up against the wall behind the counter. "I always like to hear people's feedback, and I must admit I enjoyed making something different."

Cissnei stared at Mr. Grice's back as he hung the shuriken up against the wall. Something was tightening in her chest. All she wanted was to grasp at her host and tell him everything, about Zack, about ShinRa... about the threat to her life that would never go away.

He turned and looked her directly in her eye.

"Riaela. We shut the shop on a Sunday. Would you spend the day with me and my wife tomorrow?"

Cissnei stared at him, wide eyed and suddenly so vulnerable. All thoughts of restraint and caution had flown far from her mind.

"Okay." She managed, through the lump in her throat.

* * *

2nd October 2007

Reno let out a long frustrated groan as he lent on the cubicle door, waiting for his partner.

"This is so not what I signed up for."

Frowning, he looked down at his light cotton trousers and t-shirt. Well, they'd be comfortable at least. But it was just the _hassle _of it all. Yeah, he could see the point of what they were doing, heading for a nearby town as the Turks, and then going incognito to their actual location to search. Tseng was right; this was the best way of throwing off ShinRa's trail.

But it was also a bloody pain.

At last there was movement from the plastic door at Reno's back, Rude was finally finished. But in an instant, all thoughts of getting out and getting on the trail were cast out of Reno's mind as he collapsed in a heap of giggles at the sight of Rude… and in a wig!

"Well we've learned one thing for sure" Reno spluttered, between laughter. "You really shouldn't grow hair. Ever."

Rude answered only with a grunt.

Still, chuckling, Reno gave himself another look over in the mirror. He couldn't help shaking his head as he caught sight of Rude over his shoulder. Tseng must have been feeling particularly cruel when he picked out that get up! The clothes weren't actually too bad, Rude wore the same combat style cotton trousers and dark T-shirt that Reno was wearing, but over them Rude had a dark jacket with clips to fasten them. Reno had seen others like it on the young men in Midgar. They were alright. But his _hair…_it hung messily over his forehead in a thick black mop. It probably wasn't strange enough to draw unwanted attention, but on the usually sharp suited Rude it was just hilarious!

Reno breathed an internal sigh of relief that he hadn't had to wear the wig that Tseng had got for him. He'd never even opened the box, as a matter of fact. It'd been a chance in a million that he'd find a hairpiece he actually liked in Midgar's costume shop, but he'd done it. He ran a hand through it proudly now, trying to get accustomed to his new look. It was actually cool. Straight and smooth, but cut at such a sharp angle that it really had edge, and with two brown bangs jutting out on to his forehead. It looked a little like the haircut he'd had when he first joined the Turks actually, but the deep brown colour was enough of a break from his usual shock of red to ensure he wouldn't be recognised. It was perfect for the job. And it seemed he'd definitely dodged a bullet by avoiding what Tseng would have picked out for him.

Reno snorted, unable to suppress his laughter as he caught sight of Rude's mop once again.

"Are you nearly finished?" Rude responded, sternly. "We need to get going."

"Yeah yeah." Reno answered, reaching in his pocket for the powder that Tseng had given him. With a sigh he reached out and smoothed it over the curved tattoos of his cheekbones, until they disappeared into his pale skin. He eyed his reflection, unconvinced. It just wasn't as cool. But he couldn't risk getting himself recognised.

"…Okay" he sighed. "We gonna move? What's Tseng got planned for us anyway?"

"Apparently a driver in an unmarked car is going to take us to Kalm from here. We'll look around for a few hours, then change, and then the driver'll take us back to Midgar."

"The drivers a Turk, right?"

"Yeah. A junior"

Reno nodded in appreciation. "Well one thing's for sure. The boss has covered every damn thing. ShinRa's gonna have a reeeealy hard time following our trail."

* * *

Amused, Scarlet glanced down at the audio recorder sitting on her desk, noting the blink of the receiver and the wheels that whirred away.

_ShinRa's goin__g to have a hard time following our trail._

She couldn't help but laugh.

How delightfully inaccurate.


	5. Always on the Move

**A/N. Just a quick thank you to Toghther-we-can-rebuild ShinRa and me-obviously for their advice, which inspired the first scene of this chapter, and for their constant encouragement. You are both most appreciated!**

2nd October 2007

The manager of _Midgar Costumes _looked regretfully at the final number that she'd just typed into the accounts spreadsheet on her desktop monitor. She sighed. There were no more jobs she needed to do that day. She'd exhausted every distraction she could think of. Well, there was nothing else for it; she was going to have to make that phone call.

She shook her hair, as if in a vain attempt to shrug off the irrational apprehension that was fluttering in her stomach. How ridiculous! She was a grown woman, a professional. What reason did she have to worry about a simple phone call, a message of good news at that! She should be eager to do this right: Scarlet had the potential to be an excellent customer. Given the specificity of her request and the limited time span she had given them, the shop had been more or less free to set their own charge. If Scarlet was planning to send any more custom like that their way, she couldn't risk doing anything to jeopardise it. And yet she'd spent the whole day procrastinating; looking for something, anything, that she could convince herself took priority over the phone call. Well, it was ludicrous! And it was about time to pull herself together. She could have sworn, though, as she reached for the receiver, that she felt every one of the hairs on the back of her neck stand in salute.

"Yes?" the voice sounded down the phone line. Its tone was almost sing-song, but the manager couldn't ignore the stab of unease at her chest as she heard her customer speak. Scarlet was such a strange woman.

"It's Kayanna, from the costume shop."

"Ah. It's nice to hear from you."

Kayanna breathed deeply, trying to swallow her growing nervousness.

"The gentleman matching the description you gave us came in and bought the hairpiece you ordered this morning."

"Yes, I am aware of that" Scarlet answered, her smug satisfaction audible even over the phone line.

"He seemed very pleased with the purchase."

"Yes, I imagine he did" Scarlet replied sweetly. "Now. I believe I have a debt to settle."

Kayanna reached for the calculator on her desk, and quickly subtracted the figure the red headed customer had paid that morning from the figure she had scribbled on her notepad the night before. She winced a little as she related the remaining cost to her client. Still, she was sure ShinRa could afford it.

Indeed, if Scarlet was at all fazed by the amount, she didn't show it.

"Fine" Scarlet told her, "I'll have a cheque sent out immediately. And thank you Kayanna, you've been most helpful."

There was a click at the end of the line. Well, that was that then. A good piece of business. She glanced up at the accounts sheet still open on her computer screen. Custom like this was just what that shop needed. And surely it was worth ignoring the way that edge in her newest client's voice sent imagined electricity sparking up and down her spine. She dealt regularly with eccentric customers and their unusual requests. Scarlet was no different. And that tone in her voice that made Kayanna want to run a mile was probably just a product of her overworked mind

Yes. That must be it.

* * *

Cissnei smiled. Mrs. Grice could work wonders on a limited budget. With all it's fortunes, ShinRa had never managed to provide food that tasted of much else but cotton wool and plastic, but even with the little they managed to make from the shop, the Grice's food was filling and warming in a way that it seemed only homemade food could be. The whole experience had just been so cosy… It wasn't something Cissnei had experienced very often.

From the moment she had appeared this morning at the doorless archway that was the entrance to the Grice's living room, she'd been turning the puzzle over and over in her mind. It had only been three days since she had stepped off that rooftop in Sector 7 and stepped out of her life as a Turk, and she had turned up at the settlement completely unknown to anyone. Perhaps it was not such a surprise that the Grice's had taken her in. Mrs. Grice had been plagued with arthritis and they needed some extra help in the shop. Besides, they had had a room to spare. It was the perfect arrangement. But what Cissnei hadn't been prepared for was the way that she had been treated by the Grices.

Throughout all the laughter and conversation of the day, Cissnei mind had whirred frantically, trying to come up with an explanation for the Grice's behaviour. By the time she was leaving the high wooden dining table for the threadbare armchair in the corner, or rather the curve, of the room, she had pretty much given up. No explanation she came up with ever really hung together. She'd wondered whether the Grices were gathering intelligence that could be passed on to ShinRa…. but what could ShinRa possibly want to know? Cissnei had access to Company secrets: that told them more than enough. If the Grice's had been acting on ShinRa's behalf, Cissnei would have been dead days ago. It could be that the Company suspected that Tseng had known about her escape, that they wanted to hear it directly from her before they took any action against him. But the Grice's asked all the wrong questions! They wanted to know how she was finding the shop work, whether she had slept well, how she was adjusting to life in the settlement. Yeah, they were curious about how she had come to be there, but when they had realised she didn't want to talk about it, they had let the matter drop. If they were looking for information, they were certainly taking their time in getting to the good stuff.

But when all those other explanations had been pushed aside, the only answer left was the one she'd known to be true all along, but her caution as a former Turk, or perhaps her discomfort at what it might mean, had refused to let her believe it.

The previous occupant of Cissnei's room in the tower was the Grice's son Martyn. Like so many men of his age, he'd left the settlement for Midgar in search of a more interesting life. The Grice's seemed to be feeling his absence keenly, Mrs. Grice in particular. Now that Cissnei was here Mrs. Grice fussed over her relentlessly, worrying about the meal, firing questions at Cissnei; hungry to learn more about who she was and to understand her interests. Cissnei was a lodger, and one of only a few days at that. She should be given food, accommodation and a small wage. The Grice's had no reason to give her any more and Cissnei had certainly never asked for it. But yet here she was, sat in the almost cylindrical tower, in the Grice's living quarters, enjoying their company and their hospitality, and after only two days of serving for them in the shop! She didn't feel like a lodger at all… she felt like part of the family.

The whole situation was painfully reminiscent of a meal she'd shared with another family. Everything was the same in fact, the quiet cheerfulness of the husband, the fussing of the wife, even the air of loneliness after the departure of the son. She found herself quite unable to keep her thoughts from that small household in Gongaga, although, of course, that was the very last thing she wanted to remember. But her whole life she'd been sought after: ShinRa had singled her out in the orphanage, the trainers at the Company had fought over her, the leaders of the Turks had been excited about her… But she'd always been desired for her abilities. This time she was wanted for who she was: she could fill a gap left in a family, and that had only happened that one time before.

"Honestly dear, are you sure you wouldn't prefer something more feminine? You're such a pretty girl Riaela, you shouldn't be afraid to show it."

Cissnei almost jumped in surprise as Mrs. Grice's words broke into her musings. She suddenly remembered what they had been talking about. It was jarring.

"Oh… no, it's not that. It's just that I… I need something more formal for work."

But the truth of the situation was breaking, unsummoned, through the idyllic picture she had painted for herself. She didn't need something more formal for work: what she really wanted was an outfit fit for a chase.

Mrs. Grice was an excellent seamstress. And it was perfect for Cissnei. Her long skirt had been useful for hiding her uniform in Sector 7, and she was able to pick up her sandals from a shop that she had passed. But she'd known that eventually she was going to need something in which she could run. It was better that it was made by someone she could trust.

She _knew_ this was temporary, she'd always known it. Sooner or later she was going to have to get away, and quickly. In fact, finding more suitable clothing had been one of her first plans for after she'd got a place to stay. So why were invisible hands squeezing at her throat? She chided herself for being so naive. It didn't _matter_. How could she have ever thought otherwise? None of it mattered. It didn't matter whether the Grice's were prepared to take her in, it didn't matter what they thought of her. It didn't even matter if she could finally overcome her suspicions and start to trust them. Nothing she did would ever matter. She was Raiela. She wasn't Cissnei, or Juana or any other name she'd gone by before. She was blank. Even more than she had been as a Turk; she didn't even have her job to identify her now. She was just… hunted. There were no permanents for her any more, there never would be. She'd never be completely sure she was free of the Company.

* * *


	6. Smooze the big wigs

11th December 2007

Night had already come to settle over Midgar long before Tseng made the short walk between the ShinRa building and his private quarters. He would usually enjoy this time of the day. Usually Midgar was all hubbub and noise. When night fell, the throngs that had made their busy way around the city by day relocated to Sector 8 to add their charge to the local nightlife, which left the rest of Midgar in a subdued calm. It was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

Tonight was different though. Tonight Tseng was at odds with his surroundings. The antagonism he felt at the events of the evening seemed to unsettle the restful equilibrium of the night air, like a stone casting ripples over a quiet pond.

Coming up close to the door of the Turks' accommodation Tseng flashed his keycard through the consol in the wall and, with willpower rather than energy as his main impetus, he ascended the stairs to his living quarters. For all his tiredness though, his mind whirred at a frightening speed – fired up with a greater passion than Tseng ought to have had the strength to muster. It was working on pure fury.

Today was the 51st anniversary of the establishment of the ShinRa Manufacturing Works, an emergent power company. Every year they'd invited the leaders of each department to a celebration in the Grand Hall of their headquarters. With Heidegger disinterested in the Turks and tied up with military matters, Tseng just about qualified as one of the guests, much to his dismay. In his experience it was just an opportunity for the higher ups in the Company to puff out their chest in self satisfaction, and bask in the glory of how far they'd come over the years. It was usually dull, but tonight it had been unbearable.

Tonight, a cold realisation underscored all the false laughter and mutual back slapping.

_One of these people is out to have me killed._

The President wouldn't send a Turk to catch a Turk, even if they _were_ the main power responsible for Company investigations. President Shinra would have put someone else on their trail. He wouldn't have wanted to give an impression of dysfunction within the Company to anyone but his most trusted staff. It would have had to be one of the people at that celebration. Someone that Tseng was expected to laugh and drink with.

The door shut with a click and Tseng crossed the room, wrenching his chair forcibly from under the small desk in the corner. He leant forward over the table, clutching his fingers tight around the back of his head. He could still remember every swift glance in his direction, every query about his work, every inane conversation. One of those people was looking for a way to prove that the Turks were working against the Company. Someone was plotting their exposure, in full knowledge of the consequences, and Tseng could do nothing but engage them in small talk.

Infuriated, he rose to his feet. How could he go on like this, liaising with employees, pretending everything was normal, and all the while knowing that they'd kill him in an instant if they knew what he was trying to do?

Tseng stood against the wall, resting his forehead on the cold metal. He needed to calm down. He couldn't lose his resolve. Yes, things would go very badly if anyone managed to catch up to him, but there was no reason to suspect that that would happen. He knew the Company well enough to have a fair chance at guessing their next move. And he was perfectly capable of covering his tracks. This was all unnecessary worry. ShinRa had been pursuing Cissnei for more than two months now, with no result. At least that's what he thought… would the President even tell him if Cissnei had been found? For all Tseng knew she could have been killed months ago, leaving the Turks to continue their pursuit completely unaware!

No.

Reno and Rude were still on her tail. The President wouldn't waste their labour unnecessarily. The Turks were doing alright. Tseng had covered every angle. He'd stuck to secure phone lines, he'd purchased Rude and Reno's costumes from different suppliers, and employed people who wouldn't be recognised to go and pick them up. He had hoped they'd be able to find Cissnei, maybe come up with up a plan to keep ShinRa away from where she was staying, but that didn't matter too much, at least the Company had the impression that they were still searching. And if Reno and Rude hadn't found her yet, then she must be well hidden. That could only be a good thing.

Tseng slumped back down onto his chair. He needed to stay positive. They'd managed so well up until this point. And he'd force himself to continue with what he'd planned. But the conflict between his role as a Turk and his desire to protect Cissnei was becoming increasingly hard to bear.

He stared blankly at the bed at the other side of the room. If only he could get some sleep…

* * *

Scarlet whipped her key card out of her bag and ran it through the scanner at the side of the door of her room. She glided inside, grinning in satisfaction. The night had been exhilarating. Too elated for sleep she perched on the edge of her emerald eiderdown, smoothing her fingertips over the satin cloth, as she replayed the night's events in her mind's eye.

How wonderfully amusing Tseng had been tonight, darting around wide-eyed like a fox in a trap! He had been so on edge! Jumping out of skin at the slightest noise! She tipped her head back and blonde locks, curled for the evening, fell across her back as she laughed a gleeful laugh.

The President had done her such a favour when he'd sent this case in her direction, Scarlet mused as she took a bottle of cointreau and a shot glass from the cupboard by the side of her bed. She'd expected to order the death of Tseng's little underling, and maybe Tseng and one or two of his Turks into the bargain. And that would have been more than enough. There was no need to be greedy, she thought, her long fingernails tapping against the metal lid as she unscrewed the bottle.

Still, she'd been gifted all that she expected and so much more. Who would have thought that she'd come to so enjoy the chase? It was a delight seeing Tseng in the corridors lately. He was usually so tediously straight-laced: sharp suited and perfectly turned out. It was simply charming to watch it all fall apart. A few extra lines to frame his forehead, a stray hair here and there… she'd even thought that once or twice she'd caught sight of a pale powder dusting his shoulders. No doubt the same concealant powder he was giving to that red headed crony to cover his tattoos. But just what was Tseng concealing, she wondered, as she took her first sip from the freshly poured glass of liqueur? Dark circles no doubt. That would explain his frayed nerves at the party tonight. A deep chuckle began to rise in her chest. This was better by far than what she had expected. His death would most likely come and go in a matter of minutes. What she was orchestrating now was far superior; she was engineering his slow decline…

All in all, things were going delightfully well, she reflected, as she set her glass down on the cupboard top. Her plan had proved to be impeccable, not that she was surprised. Of course that red head would prefer a wig modelled on his former haircut over something that Tseng would pick out for him. It was the perfect manipulation of Tseng's dreariness and the red head's vanity. And the engineers had done their job well…. for once. The transmitter and microphone were excellent, not quite the size of pin heads as she'd been promised, but they hadn't been discovered so far. She glanced appreciatively at the receiver and tape recorder that she'd brought to her room earlier in the day. Of course, she had hoped that they'd have found something by now… but no matter. The Turks were professional investigators: they'd lead her to her results in time. And meanwhile, Tseng was sure to give her more than enough entertainment…

Her eyes glinted with pleasure at the thought.


	7. Sleep an untroubled sleep

12th December 2007

It was well past a reasonable time to fall asleep, especially given the pressing demands of the next morning. Tseng knew that all too well as he stared up at his blank ceiling. He needed to keep his mind sharp if he was going to stay ahead of ShinRa, but yet he had still not found a way to shake off the dogged sleeplessness that seemed determined to frustrate his plans.

The clock on his bed stand shone out red with an electronic glow. 2.05. It would be another four hours before Tseng could reasonably escape from his suddenly airless bedroom. He flashed aching eyes around the dim room. His furniture looked blank and featureless in the soft light. ShinRa's metallic buildings made for a cold and unforgiving atmosphere at the best of times, but by night even the few personal effects that usually added colour and warmth to the room, had descended into an empty grey.

It was a strange way to look at the night time, especially when the dusk brought with it such a welcoming peace. But Tseng had found that night, true night, was much less tranquil than appearances would protest. In the dusk, the quiet was resonant, and it was genuine; at night it was only a brittle covering for something more ominous.

Every night he'd wondered if he'd managed to overpower it, not enough for sleep of course, but enough for quiet. Minutes, hours sometimes, stretched out in blissful emptiness, as the self constructed walls in his mind shook, but held fast, against the barrage of memories that threatened siege upon his consciousness.

Sooner or later they always broke down.

Perhaps it was tiredness, or just the strain of keeping a blank mind, but, for all his resolve, he could never make it through an entire night without remembering.

And, exactly the same as every night previous, before Tseng had even noticed it begin, those images were flashing through his mind.

This time it was as if he had himself stood on the plains outside of Midgar, the whirr of the propellers of ShinRa helicopters ringing in his ears. One by one the choppers landed, still on the grass, each spilling forth throngs of blue uniformed militia. In the far distance, a dark figure was striding out onto the dusty landscape. Had he seen them yet? Had he recognised the uniforms? The insignias? Had he realised that after all of his years of serving them, it was the ShinRa Company that would engineer his demise? Did he know that less than an hour from now Tseng would be arranging a way to finish what ShinRa had started when they'd taken Zack's wounded body from the Nibelheim reactor?

Wiping clean the slate of his existence.

Gaia only knew what destruction Zack had saved its people from when he took on Sephiroth. But as far as the ShinRa Company were concerned he had crossed a line. Simply by witnessing Sephiroth's rebellion, Zack had become entwined in it. The most feared and respected SOLDIER turning on the Company and murdering innocent people… it conflicted with ShinRa interests. The Company couldn't allow it, and they couldn't allow it to be known. And in an instant dozens of fates were signed and sealed. Sephiroth himself and the bulk of the witnesses already lay dead. As far as ShinRa was concerned that was… convenient. As for those that lived, well, they would have to dispose of them personally. And if they could further the Science program at the same time, well, all the better…

Tseng threw himself upright in bed, his fingers grasping at his loose hair. He couldn't think about this any longer. He needed to force his mind to a different topic. Or to an absence of thought… of course that was the ideal, but it was something that he could never lastingly achieve.

He grasped for the dressing gown that hung from a peg at the side of his bed, and paced over to the window, staring dully at the thin beams of moonlight that dodged their way past his blinds. The worst part of it all was that no matter who he remembered, sometimes it was Zack, sometimes Cissnei, the truth of the matter was that their names took up barely a fraction of the long list of his misdeeds. Every cover up, every smoothing over, every piece of history rewritten in the Company's favour had impacted on someone with the same cold horror that ShinRa's pursuit of Zack and Cissnei had aroused in Tseng. How many other Zacks and Cissneis had Tseng encountered in his long years as a Turk? How many lives had he destroyed under the banner of protecting Company interests? The Turks facilitated so many atrocities. It was because of Tseng and his work that the Company could continue to do as they pleased. And for years Tseng had barely even noticed.

He span, frustrated, away from the window. He was doing it again! He ran a shaky hand over his forehead. He needed something to really take his mind off things. And while he was up he might as well get some work done. He made his way sleepily to the desk in the corner and, flipped open his laptop as he slumped into the seat. Reno had reported meeting an unfamiliar man earlier that day who wore a First Class SOLDIER uniform. The uniform must have been stolen; there was no doubt about it. If the man had been a genuine First Class Reno would have at least recognised him. But the strange thing was that Reno had sworn that the man was mako infused, and whilst uniforms and weaponry could be stolen, nothing could be done to fake that unnatural mako glow.

Tseng hammered on his keyboard with swift and methodical taps. The page he was looking for sprang at once to his monitor. Company Employment History. If this man had had a mako transfusion then he had served in SOLDIER, there was no other explanation for it. It was just a matter of finding him…

With a sigh, Tseng reached for the mouse and called his message inbox to the screen. With any luck Reno would have already sent the email he'd promised, describing the incident… Ah. Here it was. Tseng scanned the page to find a description of the man in question.

In an instant Tseng's eyes widened, his chest constricted. A handful of words leapt from the screen with a haunting familiarity.

_Male… early twenties… SOLDIER First Class uniform…spiky hair... oversized sword…_

And lastly the location of the incident:

_The Church in Sector 5… with Aerith._

Tseng's mind was swimming. He blinked at the screen, as if it would somehow change the words displayed there. This couldn't be. It was impossible! He ran a hand through his dark hair and tried to get a hold of himself.

Of course it was impossible! So there was a few similarities between one man and another… there was nothing strange in that. Zack was dead. Even disregarding the vast numbers that were sent against him, if there was any chance at all Zack had survived Rude and Reno would not have left him on the hillside, Cissnei would not have permitted it. Tseng smiled weakly. That much, at least, was certain.

Wearily, he recalled the Employment history to the screen. He'd feel a lot better once he'd pinpointed the identity of this stranger. He reached for the mouse and hit the folder marked SOLDIER. This would all be solved in no time…

But he couldn't quite silence that stubborn concern in the back of his mind. It seemed awfully as if something, be it his own paranoia or otherwise, was playing tricks with the world around him. Something was determined not to let him forget that long list of offences.


	8. Trained in Search and Rescue

**A.N. Hello everyone.  I know this is pretty short, but I wanted it to be just one chapter. I couldn't resist leaving it in a cliffhanger! I will try to make sure that the next is of the usual length. Hope you like it!**

**_____________________________________________________________________**

13th December 2007

As the sea loomed out ahead of them Rude gave a sharp jerk of his wrist, sending the Company helicopter veering sharply to the South. Reno looked up in alarm.

"What're you doing?"

Rude leaned forward, the skin creasing at the side of his sunglasses as he squinted out at the landscape

"I want to do one more sweep of this continent."

Reno regarded Rude, curiously.

"You really don't think she's in the West, do you?"

"No." Rude grunted, never taking his eyes off the ground beneath them. "How would she have crossed the sea?"

Reno nodded silently. Of course, Rude was right. The only port that sent Ships between the Eastern and Western continents was Junon, and that was a ShinRa stronghold. The chances of her being recognised were far too great.

Reno shuffled forward on his seat, leaning over to check the window on his side. They'd better hope that they'd missed her when they'd been to the towns and settlements of the East. The idea of her having to work her way past ShinRa security at Junon was not a comfortable one.

"So what're we looking for?" Reno asked, his gaze fixed on the hills below.

"I was hoping I'd know when I saw it…"

________________________________________________________________________

Rude sat up suddenly in his seat, pointing out over the landscape.

"What's that?"

Reno frowned, reaching into his jacket to pull out a folded map. He spread it over his knees, tracing a finger along the route they'd taken. He looked up at his companion, baffled.

"There's nothing on here."

Rude's brow furrowed as he studied the Tower below them.

"There used to be a mako reactor here…"

He caught Reno's gaze in a silent exchange before veering off course in the direction of the mountains. Reno reached once more into his jacket pocket, this time taking out his PHS.

"Okay Tseng, we're going to need that driver."

________________________________________________________________________

Rude brushed a thick strand of manufactured hair out of his face as he moved in to get a closer look at the tower. With what looked like the work of skilled carpenters, the building had been altered dramatically, but something remained in its size and shape that was still vaguely reminiscent of the reactor that he was sure had stood in this very spot.

"Huh." Reno exclaimed as he fingered at some of the posters tacked to the base of the tower. There was one advertising items for sale, another offering rooms for the night, and still another for a weapons shop.

"What is this some kind of shopping centre now?"

Before Rude could answer the door to the tower swung open with a long creak, and a man stepped out of the entrance. Reno narrowed his eyes, giving the man a quick assessment. He was middle aged, in his fifties maybe, judging by the grey hairs flecked between the dark brown. He was well built and a gun hung from his belt, but he met them with a warm smile, seemingly at ease. Most likely, the gun was simply protection against some of the beasts out on the plains. Still, neither he nor Rude were about to let their guard down.

"Oh hello gentlemen." He moved to shake Rude's hand. "Are you passing through? I own a general items shop up in the tower. We have a few products that might be useful for you if you're planning on crossing the plains."

Reno risked a look to his colleague before holding up his ShinRa ID card.

The man's eyes widened instantly.

"ShinRa have business here?"

"Yes we do" Reno drawled. "Don't suppose there's been a girl come to live here lately. Early twenties. Kinda short."

He held up a hand to indicate Cissnei's height.

The man frowned. "Well, we don't have a lot of youngsters here… but there is the girl at the weapons shop. Riaela."

Reno shot a look at Rude before charging up the stairs of the tower. The man watched after him, bewildered. He caught Rude's arm as he turned to follow his friend.

"Wait!" he implored. "I know Riaela. She's a good lass. ShinRa couldn't have anything against her."

"Don't worry." Rude answered solemnly. "We're here for her protection."

________________________________________________________________________

Scarlet shot a hand up her ear, false fingernails pressing into the earpiece. A wicked smirk flashed across her face. She reached into a vivid red handbag, taking out her PHS.

"Why hello Mr. President." She almost sang into the mouthpiece. "I think I'll be needing those infantrymen you promised me. And if you'd be so kind as to send for a helicopter."

Her crimson lips widened into a smile.

"It's destination? Fort Condor."


	9. Ready for an attack

13th December 2008

The sword that Cissnei was holding slipped between her fingers, landing with a loud clatter against the plastic counter.

"I…I'm sorry"

Flustered, she picked the weapon from the table top, and took a few sheets from the top of her pile of outdated pages from _The ShinRa Times_, folding them one by one around the blade, her eyes constantly darting between the sword and the two figures that had just entered the room.

As she worked her mind was turning frantically. It was a mercy, at least, that they'd come while she was at the shop. Weapons hung at her every side. Just as she had during countless paranoid moments over the last few months, she envisaged the line of her grasp to the shuriken that hung on the wall behind her.

She could reach and throw to take one of them out in one long sweep, but would she be able to take up another weapon faster than the other could knock her out? From what she knew of Reno and Rude it seemed doubtful. Should she do it now, while initiative was on her side, even with her customer standing before her? Something, be it an unwanted sense of duty towards her new employers or a lingering allegiance to past comrades, stayed her hand.

She bit the last piece of masking tape, recoiling a little at the harsh smell of the solvent, before pressing it into the newspaper, safely sealing the blade, Robotically she related the price to the traveller, and wished him a good day.

"You don't have a whole lot of variety here."

"Sorry." Cissnei replied, coolly. "We don't have much trade in electrified rods."

Reno approached the counter with a grin, which faltered a little under Cissnei's harsh glare.

"Are you here to kill me?"

Reno's eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"Wha-"

"You owe me this much." Cissnei retorted. "Are you here to kill me?"

Reno could only gape at her. How could she think that? The Cissnei that stood before him was not the same, green, new recruit that he had always seen in her.

"We're not here to kill you." Rude answered before Reno could get his thoughts straight.

"What then?" Cissnei had taken the shuriken from behind her head and held it out in front of her with a shaking hand.

"We have to give ShinRa the impression that we're chasing you. In the meantime Tseng thought we could find you for real."

"And once we know where you are we can keep ShinRa off your trail." Reno supplied.

Cissnei regarded them in silence for a moment, deciding how far she could trust them.

______________________________________________________________________

Outside the tower, a ShinRa helicopter was coming to a smooth halt. One by one, half a dozen infantrymen hopped out of the door, the final one holding up a hand to help Scarlet to the ground. She shot him a distasteful look as she stepped gracefully on to the dry earth.

It was men like this that she despised the most. So toadying, so repulsively low. To think that someone so inferior should dare to reach for her hand! Of course, though, she'd expect no less than that level of service…

They made their way up the spiral road to where the tower loomed before them, Scarlet stepping coolly and collectedly on the stony path.

"Okay gentlemen" she purred. "I think it's time to ready your weapons."

_____________________________________________________________________

"So what d'ya think?" Reno said, at last. "One person in the whole of Gaia, and we found you in, what, two and a half months. Pretty impressive, huh? ShinRa surveillance at it's best!"

Cissnei was unmoved. "Shame your wig selection doesn't meet the same high standard."

She allowed herself a smile as she eyed Rude's mop.

Reno erupted into laughter; mocking Rude was fast becoming his favourite pastime.

But as a heavy clatter of footsteps sounded on the staircase, Reno's laughter faded into silence. All three Turks whipped around to face the doorway, Reno lifting his leg behind him to pull his EMR rod from the strapping around his calf.

The moment seemed to hang uncertainly in the air for a little too long, the silence heavy with dread anticipation as the three stood, weapons and fists raised, waiting for what was to come.

There was little more warning than the flash of blue uniforms before the silence erupted with a flurry of bullets. Sparks seemed to fly from barrels at every corner of the room. With the initiative out of their hands, and Rude and Reno caught in the act of disobeying the Company, not one of them thought twice before diving behind the shop counter.

Reno was the second to make it behind the shelter. The truth of the situation hit home as he skidded to a halt beside his former comrade. These soldiers weren't going to stop until Cissnei was dead. And worse, he and Rude need only show the slightest hint of allegiance with Cissnei, and the gunfire would turn on them. They could take these out, sure, but as soon as word got back to ShinRa more would be sent, and more… until the job was done. They couldn't help Cissnei now.

Cissnei looked down at her former superior as he pulled himself up to crouch next to her. His eyes were filled with an unmistakable mix of horror and resolution. She knew what he was about to say.

"Run."

Before he had finished speaking, Cissnei had already launched herself in the direction of the store room, a rattle of gunfire announcing her movement like a frantic starting gun. She grasped desperately for the half open window.

Scarlet's eyes narrowed in anger as she watched her quarry disappear over the ledge.

"Follow her!" She shrieked.

Reno leant his head up against the counter, his eyes pressed shut in despair. That voice had been unbearably familiar: almost horse with fury, and yet set with a chilling authority that made his hairs stand in salute. Scarlet.

This was going to be more difficult than they'd bargained for.


	10. A force to be reckoned with

Cissnei hung from the window ledge outside the tower, her legs dangling over the earth below. It was a little higher than she would have liked, and there were stones scattered among the hard ground. Good. Maybe it would hold off the tail that was sure to be close behind.

She dropped to the ground, falling into a roll, and grimaced as she pushed herself up into a run. A wet and warm trail made its way down her upper arm. Most likely she'd cut herself on one of the more jagged stones, but she didn't stop to assess the damage. She needed a way to lose her pursuers.

Her eyes narrowed in frustration. The plains were the very worst place to find herself. Miles and miles of land stretched out before her with not a hidden path or hiding place anywhere to be seen. The mountains were her best hope, but they were so desperately far away. And she could already hear the hammer of rifles ringing out behind her.

Reno watched uncomfortably as the last infantrymen disappeared through the window. He could well believe Cissnei could out run them, but that wasn't the issue. Cissnei was trained in ducking and diving and losing a pursuer, but all their training had been carried out in Midgar, with crowds and back passages and countless obstructions to hide them. Cissnei was out in the Plains! What cover could she possibly take in a place like this? The infantrymen wouldn't have to take her down, wouldn't even have to keep up with her. All they would have to do was keep close enough to maintain her trail. Cissnei couldn't run forever, and as quick as she chose a place to stop, even if the soilders were too tired to finish the job themselves, it would take seconds for them to put through a call to the ShinRa.

He turned to Rude, ready to air his concerns, but Rude fixed him with a steely gaze and a firm nod. Obviously they were on the same page. As one, they leapt towards the door, swinging in turn over the edge of the window. A flicker of a smile upturned the corner of Scarlet's lips as she watched them go. Perhaps their target was going to be a little harder to pin down than she'd first expected, but it was always nice to catch a couple of traitors into the bargain.

Reno leaped away from the tower wall with a hard push from the balls of his feet. He span out away from the wall, landing on his toes and then springing up into a run. His green eyes blazed in determination as he slid the switch of his EMR rod to its highest setting. Situations like this were exactly what he excelled at. He pressed on into a sprint, each moment growing nearer and nearer to the charging infantrymen.

"Aaaaargh!"

He surged forward, whipping the tip of his rod out before him, stretching far enough to just make contact with the slowest soldier. Blue sparks tore from the weapon with a crackle of electricity. The man let out a pained cry, his body limp and twitching as it fell to the ground at Reno's feet. Another soldier ahead of him whipped around at the noise, barely managing to drop to the floor in time before Reno gave another ferocious swing of his EMR.

The infantryman's fist clenched in anger as he slammed his leg in the direction of Reno's, hoping to throw him off balance. Reno was one step ahead of him. His eyes narrowed as he spotted his opening and in one, graceful manoeuvre he leapt over the other man's leg, turning in the air, and landing on his feet by the man's side. The infantryman barely had time to look up in surprise at the Turk towering over him before Reno's boot hit him with a firm jab in the face.

The soldier's head fell backwards, blood spurting from his nose. Satisfied he was unconscious, Reno looked up to see two more infantrymen up ahead. Rude flew past him at a run, strong legs pummelling against the dry ground. Reno hurried to meet him. Reno's recent scuffle, or else the heavy trample of the Turks' boots across the grass, must have alerted one of the men to their pursuers, because he jabbed his colleague with his elbow, before opening a round of gunfire upon Reno and Rude, Both Turks dived into a roll to avoid the oncoming flurry of bullets. Reno, the first to raise himself up into a run, laughed arrogantly at his attackers.

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that to beat the Turks!"

The infantryman didn't wait to respond, giving his answer instead by turning his rifle, and thrusting the butt squarely at Reno's face. Caught momentarily off guard, Reno yelped and ducked as the rifle passed him overhead. His eyes glinted in a wicked smile. He was a Turk! He wasn't about to let some infantryman come so close to messing up his face. With a rapid flick of his wrist he caught the gun and wrenched it from the unsuspecting guard, who stumbled forward as he tried to cling to his weapon.

"You ought to think about who you're messin' with."

Reno closed a fist around the barrel, bringing it down with a loud crack against the infantryman's nose. He doubled over, both hands clasped to his face, as a clatter of bullets rang out from his comrade's rifle. Reno leapt to the ground, rolling and kicking out hard as he reached the gunman's legs. His adversary grunted in pain, clutching the blue fabric of his uniform below the knee pad. Reno wasn't about to waste the opportunity. He sprang to his feet, bringing his EMR crashing to the man's side. As he slumped to a fall Reno withdrew the rod, whipping around to hit the first man, who had now staggered to his feet, blood dripping across his face. He looked up from the sight in shock as the EMR swung towards him, stiffening and grimacing under the surge of energy, before falling flat at Reno's feet.

The Turk looked out across the landscape. There was Rude a little way ahead, one infantryman unconscious at his feet and another before him, locked in battle. Just as Reno began to run across to offer his assistance, he saw Rude launch at the soldier with an almighty punch. The soldier slumped to the ground beside his comrade.

"Nicely done" panted Reno.

But Rude was silent, staring solemnly at the men he had just felled, their faces bruised and bloodied behind the traditional high collar of the ShinRa militia. It was an image that cut clean through the adrenalin of the battle, and their righteous rage against Cissnei's pursuers. Unusual circumstances or no, they had just taken out six of ShinRa's men.

"What do we do?" Reno asked of his partner.

Rude looked out over the landscape. Squinting he could just about make out a figure in red striding across the plains.

"Well first" he grunted "I suggest we take cover."


	11. Grasp their opportunities

**A.N. Just to say I'm really sorry! I know it's been a long time! Someone even complimented me on keeping regular-ish updates last chapter as well, which makes it so much worse! My only excuse is that it's been a crazy week. All my Uni deadlines for this semester are in over the next month so I might struggle a little to keep the pace. It really sucks that it's coincided with a fast paced point in the story, but if you can stick with it then I should be able to get them coming out faster once they're all in. Again, really sorry! I hope this chapter was worth the wait!**

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Cissnei ran, but she didn't run in the way that she had run as a Turk, she didn't run with that same cold, clear head that had become almost monotony she had practiced it so often in training. Every skill, every piece of knowledge that she had absorbed over the years, had flown away from her at once when the weapons store had erupted with gunfire. ShinRa had found her. She had stood in the same room as ShinRa soldiers, well within the line of their gunfire. With the information she had, they wouldn't let her go easily. Any lead they had on where she was would be systematically and ruthlessly exploited. This wasn't a chase across the countryside or a fight with a handful of infantrymen. What was happening now was a pale metaphor for what was really going on. She was running from the most influential power on the Planet, and they wouldn't let her away until the information that she possessed was destroyed, and her along with it. Cissnei ran like someone who knew that, tearing across the Plains with not a thought but getting out of the eye line of the men who pursued her.

Whether through she'd broken far enough away from the troop to be out of their line of fire, or whether they'd simply chosen to bide their time before making their attack, the gunshots seemed to have died down for the moment. She wasn't about to let her guard down though, and for all she was scared for her survival, she held on tight to the shuriken that Mr. Grice had made, more than ready to take out anyone who got too close.

But then she froze, her thoughts, her emotions, even her panic slamming to a sharp halt as she spotted an object up ahead, dwarfed in the shadow of the nearby mountains. She was almost surprised to find that her arms and legs had continued to push her onward. They must have been driven only by a subconscious awareness of the need to get away, because every other part of her was at a complete standstill.

There was a van at the foot of the mountains! Cissnei couldn't believe it. This was her ticket out. Her eyes widened as she realised what that meant. Things like this happened in books, in films; they didn't happen on Gaia, at least not in her experience. And yet there it was…

She blinked, but as her eyes opened once more it was there, small at this distance but_ real. _Her second chance. She whipped her head around to look behind her as her legs continue to sprint forward, almost of their own accord. There was no one. No one visible at this distance anyway. She gasped, and her body almost surged with hope. She had a chance to get out of this. She wasn't going to let it get away. Revived with a new energy, she tore out of her stride, breaking into a streak across the Plains. Her feet pushed hard against the dry earth, willing her on.

She had to get inside before anyone saw her, she just had to! Would it even be possible in such an open space? But something had switched on in Cissnei and it refused to believe it was hopeless. The Planet wouldn't be so cruel, would it – to show her a way out and then snatch it away? She clenched her hands into fists as she ran. It didn't matter what the Planet would allow. _She_ wasn't going to let it happen!

By the time she reached the van her muscles ached and her lungs felt heavy in her chest, but Cissnei barely noticed. With every painful stride the van grew a little nearer, and that was more than enough to drive her on. As she leapt toward the vehicle she stretched her fingers to meet it, as if it would somehow slip from her grasp. Her hand curled into a fist, pounding once, twice, onto the van's back door.

"Hello?!"

She called as loud as she dared, trying to arouse some attention. She rushed around to the side. Perhaps hammering on that door would have a little more effect. She peered into the window just in time to see a middle age man, newspaper spread across his knee, jump up in alarm, awoken from his afternoon nap.

He regarded Cissnei with a frown, reaching hesitantly for the lock on the door. Cissnei didn't waste a second before wrenching the door open, leaping into the vehicle and diving between the two front seats. She pressed the back of her head against the cool side of the van, her pulse pounding hotly in her ears. Had she really done it? Had she escaped ShinRa? She was supposed to die today! But here she was, sat in a run down delivery van, only metres away from the men who wanted to kill her. This just couldn't be right!

She opened her eyes gingerly, not surprised to see a curious driver peering at her between the front seats.

"I need a ride." Cissnei answered, before the man had time to speak. She felt at the large pocket in her trousers that Mrs. Grice had dutifully sewn in for her. Cissnei had told her it was in case she needed to carry anything with her in the shop, but in reality there'd only ever been two things she'd ever kept in there. Both brushed against her fingers now: the smooth leather of a money bag and the cold steel of a dagger. Her fingers closed around one of the items; hopefully it would be the only one she would have to use.

"I can pay you." She fumbled at the leather string of the money bag,

The driver dismissed her offer with a wave of his hand, reaching to flip the key in the ignition with a frown.

"Tell you what lass; you better have a good explanation for me when you've sorted yerself out." He groped for a grubby scarf that lay on the passenger seat and tossed it in Cissnei's direction. "S'For the bleedin'… sorry I ain't got nothin' better."

Cissnei looked blankly at him for a second before the dull throbbing at her upper arm suddenly broke into her consciousness. She looked down. Her arm was coated in blood. Most was caked and dry, but some had started to spill again from what looked like a nasty cut. She'd forgotten all about falling onto the rocks as she'd launched herself from the Tower. She wrapped the scarf tightly around her arm, murmuring a thank you.

"What's yer name kid?" the driver asked over his shoulder.

"…Alyss."

"Alyss, huh? Well I'm Darril."

"Hi" Cissnei answered absentmindedly, watching past the passenger seat to see the Tower disappear from view as the van rumbled away. So that was that.

"Darril?" Cissnei asked suddenly.

"What is it pet?"

"Where are we going?"

He glanced up into the rear view window.

"Ah we're going to Cosmo Canyon, you and me" he smiled, "via Junon.

Cissnei's heart sunk.


	12. Cool in a Crisis

**A.N. It's been crazily long, I know. I'm sorry. Things are just nuts with Uni, but it's only a couple of weeks till the end of the semester and then I promise I'll write like crazy! Anyway, sorry for the wait (again!) and I hope you enjoy it!**

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Scarlet strode out across the Plains, her stiletto heels striking against the stones in the ground with quick, sharp taps. She stopped suddenly. A flash of light blue winked out at her from behind a tall clump of grass. The tapping quickened in pace. As she neared the man she could see more clearly the way he laid, face flat in the dirt, arms curled awkwardly under his fallen body. Her head snapped up. Another soldier was spread out on his back, blood caked across his upper lip and bruises streaked across the disjointed nose.

_No!_

Scarlet quickened into a run. She didn't have to travel far before she was standing over two more men; one slumped over on his side, the other on his face like the first, limp at the end of a thin trail of blood. Scarlet's lips tightened into vivid red streaks, and she ran, her eyes wild with anger.

_The other two are on her tail. They must be on her tail._

But there they were, unconscious and side by side in the grass, blood smeared across both bruised faces. Scarlet howled.

Nearly three months, _three wretched months_, of holding back and going insane with waiting for that girl, only to have her staff bumble and blather and let her slip through her fingers. Weeks ago she'd had more than enough to bury the Turks. _Weeks ago! _She'd only held back because she had to get the girl into the bargain.

Her fingers curled into a fist, dangerously sharp fingernails glinting as they caught the sun. She'd told the President time and again that she needed more than six. Idiot! Always ready for a new scheme but too feeble to commit his men to it. Well, the girl would have to wait until he grew a backbone. She reached into her handbag, clasping her PHS between her nails like pincers. He could find the girl on his own: she was going to make quite sure she got payment in full for her hard work. Before the day was out she was going to see the end of the Turks.

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Rude stopped in his tracks. Up ahead the mountain curled in on itself. It wasn't as sheltered as he'd have liked, but at least it was some kind of cover, and the path up ahead twisted and turned, splitting off in every direction. They'd have an escape route if they needed it.

He pointed out into the opening. Reno responded with a slow nod.

"So" Reno began in a hush, "Tseng?"

He lifted his phone from his trouser pocket.

Rude grunted in response. He couldn't ignore the concerns he'd had about Tseng in the past few weeks. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was about him – something about the way he turned himself out? That sounded so insignificant, but with Tseng it somehow meant more than that. He wore his immaculate appearance like a wall, keeping his person as flawless and the situations he manipulated for ShinRa. But lately the veneer seemed thinner somehow, as if it were threatening to break down. It didn't matter though. Tseng was their leader. Besides, he hadn't put a foot wrong so far, and he had the sharpest mind Rude had ever known. He was their best chance of getting out of this alive.

Reno rolled his eyes. This wasn't a phone call he was looking forward to. As he brought the PHS to his ear the screech of the dial tone for Tseng's secure line had already begun.

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Tseng sat silently as he waited for the PHS to quiet before speaking into the receiver.

"How did it go?"

As Reno began a hesitant explanation, Tseng snapped to attention. When he spoke his voice didn't sound like his own. It was taut and strained, and somehow detached from him, as if he were watching the conversation from a distance.

"Scarlet was there" he repeated.

Tseng's mind was whirring as Reno continued. How could she possibly have known where to come? Everything had been so meticulously, so secretively, planned! He'd done everything he could possibly conceive of to make sure that they were not detected; he'd covered every outcome, taken every measure. Tseng ran his hand fretfully across his forehead. What had he missed?

He rubbed his hand over his eyebrows. There would be time to ask those questions later. And as easily as that he was the leader of the Turks again, perfectly in control of the situation. It was just like flipping on a switch. And he dealt with it with almost the same cool impassivity with which he'd handle with any other case. Almost.

"You've been bugged. There's no other explanation. I'll check myself and the office and have the driver check the car, but if you didn't know Cissnei was there until you arrived then Scarlet must have been going by something you said after the drop off. Have you said your location out loud at all?"

"Uhh…" Reno's voice sounded at the end of the line. "No, no we didn't."

"Good. _Don't _say anything incriminating. You need to find the bug, and quickly. Then ring me back immediately. Once we know how much they know we can decide what we need to do. Is that understood Reno?"

"Yeah."

Tseng pressed a button on his PHS, bringing an end to the conversation.

He breathed deeply. It was exhilarating to switch on to his role as the leader. Some combination of training and natural ability gave him the confidence to believe he could deal with any situation, no matter how grave, but it was always these moments that caught him off guard. The lull in the action, the end of the conversation, it was when things stopped that he realised how bad things had got.

Ten minutes ago everything had been fine. Not good exactly. But fine. Now he knew that six infantrymen were lying unconscious on the plains and Scarlet knew something about what they were trying to do. The question was what. The events of the past three months ran through his mind. He felt cold. How much did they know? If someone had listened in on any moment, any instance, they would have had enough to have them all killed. They had been openly subverting Company rule, and here he was, in the middle of the ShinRa building with security at every corner. If things went badly, there was no chance he could get out.

But Reno and Rude… should he have told them to run? They knew how to cover their tracks; maybe they would have a chance at getting away.

Tseng stood up, and pushed his chair carefully under his desk. There was no sense in panicking about this. He'd worked very hard to ensure that nothing was leaked. Scarlet must have been working off a minor hint. Maybe she'd only seen them picked up by the driver and followed behind. Perhaps she was just lucky enough to catch them at the one time there search actually led somewhere.

But Reno and Rude were professionals, they would _know _if they'd been tailed.

He flipped open his phone to make his call to the driver, and fired directions at him, before turning to his own situation. He took off his jacket first, smoothing his fingers over the fabric and then pushing one hand down each sleeve, looking for any abnormities, just as he had a thousand times before this one. He folded the jacket and laid it over the back of his chair before running his hands across his body, over both arms and his stomach and back and down his legs. He took off one shoe at a time feeling around inside of it, but nothing stood out from the normal material.

As he finished retying his shoe, Tseng stood up straight to look up at his office, choosing a corner of the room to start his search.

There was a sharp rapping on the door. Tseng stopped dead. Cautiously, deliberately, he moved to answer it. He pressed down on the handle with his left hand, keeping his right near enough to his pistol to take hold of it if he needed to. He wouldn't be able to break his way through security, but he could at least save himself the indignity of being killed by his own Company.

The door swung open to reveal a dishevelled Reeve. Both men eyed the other suspiciously, each too preoccupied to notice that their colleague looked as harried and worried as they did.

"I need a copy of the details for Sector 7"

Tseng turned into the room and pulled a large file from his top shelf.

"I need everything" Reeve said quickly, "a layout of every building, total occupants, contact details for any undercover staff working in the area..."

"It's all here." Tseng interrupted. He ran his fingertips swiftly over the file before handing it to Reeve. "There's a lot to copy, you can take it, but I'll need it back today.

"Thank you." Reeve nodded swiftly, and turned to leave the room in a hurry. He closed the door behind him, and Tseng stood in silence as the latch clicked into place.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

They had a little more time. He turned back to run his sweep of the office.


	13. Bondsmen of Company Rule

**A.N. Sorry again for the delay. The Uni stress is over thank goodness so updates should be much more regular from now on... hopefully! Thanks for reading!**

President Shinra slammed a fat fist down onto his office desk, making his coffee mug shake and spill under the impact. Hot brown liquid slopped out over his papers.

"Urgh!" The President grunted in frustration. He hit the intercom button, barking instructions at his assistant. "Come and clean this up right now."

"Y-yes sir" spluttered his employee.

Mere seconds past before the assistant arrived at the door, twisting a cloth awkwardly between his fingers. He scanned the room quickly and his eyes fell on the puddle of coffee spreading quickly across the tabletop. He approached the President apologetically.

"I… I could have these printed out again for you sir."

"No!" The President answered instantly, snatching up the sodden papers. "This is private company business."

"Of course sir."

"Just hurry up about it!" the President snapped, "I have things to do!"

With that he span his chair away from the man to face the expansive window at the rear of his room. Laying the papers on his lap, he shut his eyes and leant his head back against his office chair, pondering once again how to deal with the phone call he had just received.

No! It just wouldn't do! The ShinRa army had yet to recover their numbers after that incident with the Nibelheim samples and SOLDIER… well, they hadn't been the same since the desertions seven years ago. He wasn't expecting to find First Classes like the Jenova products for many years to come. He couldn't let the Turks go the same way. The Company must be protected! A power base like ShinRa was nothing without its military might. They gave it its authority. He couldn't loose his best remaining men now.

But the Turks had to be his most trusted employees, party to his secrets and completely cognisant of the workings of the Company. A Turk had to be entirely the bondsman of Company rule. A Turk with his own agenda, prepared to thwart directives: that was not acceptable. It could bring ShinRa to its knees.

He tightened his chubby fingers into fists. There had to be another way. If only he could keep the men, but somehow ensure their loyalty…

He ran his hand across the papers on his knee, drying the place where his coffee had blurred the title _"Avalanche Solution: Strategy for Sector 7". _Heavy blond eyebrows began to knit together on his forehead. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a plan was forming.

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Tseng's fingers ran lightly along the underside of his desk. It was entirely smooth. His office was clean. He was always careful: today he had been meticulous. If the slightest document, file or folder had been out of place he would have seen it. He grimaced in annoyance. How had she got the better of them? He just couldn't figure it out!

He stood immediately at the sound of his PHS, frowning for a moment at the display before transferring it to a secure line. It was rare that Rude would be the one to call when he and Reno were together. Had something happened?

"Rude."

"Sir. We've found the bug."

Tseng gripped more tightly to the phone.

"Have you destroyed it?" He asked immediately.

"Yes sir."

"Where was it?" Tseng questioned.

"… It was in Reno's wig."

The past few months flashed at once through Tseng's mind. Every piece of equipment had been sourced from a different manufacturer; they'd all been collected by junior Turks and checked by him personally before he'd given them to Reno and Rude. After every search they were brought back to Tseng and they stayed each night in his room. His many years with the Turks had taught him to sleep lightly. There was no way Scarlet could have tampered with them…

"It's not the wig you gave him" Rude's voice broke through Tseng's thoughts.

"Not the wig… it was exchanged?"

"Reno didn't use the wig you gave him. He found a different one in a shop in Midgar."

Tseng's thoughts came crashing to a halt. Scarlet had planted the wig. Then… she'd been listening all along… everything they'd said, their open disobedience to the Company. She had months of evidence on them.

"Put Reno on the phone." Tseng's voice was strained, but low and dangerous.

The line went quiet for a moment before Reno spoke.

"Boss…"

At the sound of his voice, everything that Tseng was going to say, everything he could think to bring against Reno fell away. There was only one thing he could ask him.

"Do you know what you've done?"

"…Yes." Reno answered at last.

"Then you know what I'm going to tell you to do." Tseng continued, drawing himself up straight.

"Run?"

"Yes. And I suggest you make a good job of covering your tracks. _Don't_ underestimate Shinra." A moment of silence hung between them. "Goodbye Reno."

Tseng tapped the cancel button to end the call, and threw his phone on to the desk in disgust. All his planning, all his secrecy, the painstaking care he'd taken on every point. It was all for nothing. After everything that had happened, they had become the ones who were hunted.

He whipped around to face the door, taking his gun in hand. Rude and Reno had a chance of getting away from this safely. They were miles from Midgar, and they knew how to cover their tracks. As for him… He was in the heart of the headquarters; there was security to block his path at every corner. He could either take the chance that by some miracle Scarlet hadn't yet been able to contact the President, or he could take matters into his own hands. He took a long look at his pistol.

Before he could make his decision, he was interrupted once more by the shrill ringing of his PHS. The number displayed was the one he had expected.

"Good afternoon President."

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"Send them through" President Shinra instructed his assistant. He lent back in his chair, hands clasped in his lap.

Six of the Company's burliest infantrymen entered. Tseng stood in their midst, staring at his employer, hands behind his back.

"Thank you gentleman." The President eyed his Head of Investigations, "and now if you could leave us alone."

"But sir…" the eldest of the soldiers protested.

"He's been disarmed and searched I assume General?"

"Of course." The man answered, a little indignant.

"Then I see no need for you to worry" the President continued, never taking his eyes away from his prisoner. "Tseng is a gentleman. I assume he'll have no problem with discussing the situation as a gentleman. Is that right Tseng?"

Tseng took a long look at his employer, still somewhat unsure of his intentions. "Yes it is sir."

The General was still at Tseng's side, eying him with obvious mistrust.

"I assume you will all be in my waiting room, beside my intercom, should I require your assistance?" the President asked.

"Of course" the General barked again.

President Shinra nodded, satisfied. "Very good. If you could show them out, Liao"

The men filed out behind the President's assistant as asked, but not before the General had shot Tseng what was undoubtedly intended to be a warning look.

"How nice to be alone" the President began, as the door shut behind them. "Now Tseng, it seems you have a lot to answer for… I thought better of you."

Tseng didn't answer.

"I think you can see my predicament" he continued. "I demand of the Turks the greatest loyalty. You are privileged with certain Company information, and in return I expect your absolute obedience. ShinRa is not afraid to deal with any employee that upsets that balance as swiftly and efficiently as necessary, a point that I made abundantly clear to you in reference to your little renegade"

The President's face was beginning to flush with the anger that he hadn't intended to show, he took a deep breath to regain his composure.

"On the other hand you have proved time and again your skill in your field of expertise. It would be a shame to waste so many years of service. But if you want to retain your position with us then I think you'll agree with me that a demonstration of your loyalty will be necessary."

Tseng's eyes narrowed.

"And we will begin, with the Ancient situation."

"With respect sir, the Ancient is under constant surveillance." Tseng began. "Our mission to enlist her support for our cause is entirely in hand."

The President lent forward in his chair. "No, no _no _Tseng! You have nothing in hand! I have been waiting for far too long for this. The Ancient won't be around forever. If we intend to access the Promised Land then we need to take action, whether on her terms or otherwise. By tomorrow evening I want the Ancient detained in the building."

He reached for a folder from his desk drawer.

"And I have a further assignment with which I require the Turks' assistance." He held out the file to Tseng. "Complete this, and I might be willing to rethink my opinion of you and your staff. Defy me again, and I hardly need inform you of the penalty."

Tseng moved closer to his employer, reaching to take the file from his hand.

"Take it with you" the President advised, meeting Tseng's eye. "I look forward to hearing your decision.

Tseng nodded and took the file. He turned towards the door.

Tseng risked a glance at the folder as he left the office. The title was printed across the first page. The ink was smudged and bleeding into the paper as if it had been wet, but the text still read clearly: _Avalanche Solution: Sector 7 Strategy._


	14. Keep Their Distance

**I finally have an update for you! Sorry for being lame at updating as usual. It took me a while to get this one right. **

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Tseng grimaced at the entrance to the Turks headquarters, fists clenched. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, waiting for the door to retract. The console finally responded with a sequence of bleeps and he marched inside. He strode straight past the lift. He was walking to his apartment tonight, top floor or no; he needed to work off some tension. His expression hardened as he remembered the President's army thugs. He could still feel the heavy grip of their burly hands. His fists clenched. More than a decade of laying his life on the line for ShinRa only to be dragged before the boss like a criminal. It made him feel sick.

But rage as he did, he still couldn't work off that other feeling in his stomach. _That _feeling was more stubborn, more deeply unsettling. He gripped the slim file tighter in his hands. He felt like the spy that they'd cornered earlier in Sector 8, trapped at every side and with nowhere to go. Strange as it was, he'd give anything to be Cissnei now. She had only her own life to take into her hands. For her there was a chance of escape, and if she were killed she'd acquit herself in the process. Tseng couldn't get away without adding more wrongs to the case against him.

If he refused this assignment Reno and Rude would be hunted down, and not like Cissnei had been hunted. ShinRa would do what they should have done in the first place, what they most likely _would _have done if they weren't out to test Tseng's response. They would send details of their quarries to every contact in every city on Gaia. Every community that bought ShinRa's power, every shop that sold their produce, would have to hang Reno and Rude's faces on their walls. At the very least they'd be condemned to spend their remaining lives on the wastelands, more likely they'd be spotted and killed.

Tseng stormed down the corridor and turned on to the final stairway. His own fate was even less favourable. The President wasn't about to trust the answer Tseng gave when surrounded by his hired muscle. They'd have a camera somewhere, in his room maybe, or out in the hallway: micro-recorders and live feeds, just like those Tseng used every day. The slightest movement out of the limits of the assignments and he'd be shot on sight. He really was cornered this time. The President had left him with no choice at all. It wasn't something he liked to dwell on too long. Being angry was far easier.

Tseng frowned at the wall ahead of him, his frantic steps slowing to a stop. He stood for a long moment, alone on the stairway, just staring at the wall by his door, or rather what hung there. He stepped forward and took hold of one black sleeve. His Turk uniform. The housekeepers sometimes took their dry cleaning for them, and if they missed them at the HQ they would leave their garments hanging by their apartments. It was nothing he hadn't seen countless times, but today something struck him hard about the sight of it.

Through the see through plastic of the cleaner's bag he could see perfectly the cut of the suit. The assistant had hung it perfectly, just as he liked it. Every fold and every crease was pressed and crisp. Holding the dark material through the plastic, the faintest of memories was beginning to tug at his chest. He could see himself, dressing before a mirror in his room, fastening each button up smartly. He'd been so proud to wear this, so proud of the Turks and all they stood for. That felt like such a long time ago. For a good while his uniform had become quite the opposite: a symbol of what he hated most about himself. How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

Frowning, he reached into his jacket to retrieve his keycard for a second time. He flashed it through the console. Lifting the newly dry cleaned suit from the peg he strode into his room.

As the door whizzed shut behind him, Tseng stood, suit still in hand. He stared intently at the mirror by his bed. He'd found himself avoiding his reflection recently, but suddenly he wanted to see, to look at every flaw and failing. He lifted his head to really examine himself. It was a different sight to that ambitious junior that had once looked back at him. Even over the past few months, he had changed: a few loose wisps of hair had escaped from his ponytail, the concealant powder that covered the deep circles beneath his eyes had left beige speckles on his shoulders and after a day of work his suit was no longer quite so neat and crisp.

In fact, few people would have noticed a change. As far as most of his colleagues at ShinRa were concerned, Tseng was the sharp suited perfectionist he'd always been, but Tseng treated his appearance just as he did everything else. Every aspect had to be organised, every item in its rightful place. When he looked at himself now, he was looking at a man who'd lost control.

His eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he realised what had happened. He stared at his reflection in disbelief. Distance. How could he have forgotten? Distance was at the heart of his work. It was fundamental to everything he did. He span from the mirror, frustrated. That was all this was. He'd just lost his distance. Banora, Nibelheim, it was all the same. He'd thought, when it was someone he knew, that things were different. They weren't. All that mattered was protecting Company interests. He'd said that to Zack once, after Banora. Zack hadn't understood. Not that it mattered; the Turks were ruthless so others wouldn't have to be.

It was about time he started to be a Turk again.

And yet… He turned again to take another look in the mirror. He still couldn't quite shake off the image of Zack suspended in Hojo's chambers, or of Cissnei hunted at every turn. The morality of it all still clung to him. But where had that got him recently? He was an ineffectual insomniac, now prepared to sacrifice himself and the best of his staff for the President's games. For years distance had served him well; morality could make no such claim.

Tseng took a deep breath and reached up a hand to pull the band from his hair. It was time to stop looking like a failure. Long black locks fell loose against his shoulders. He placed the uniform he was still holding in his wardrobe, stopping for just a moment to admire the crisp, clean cut. He reached into his dresser cupboard to take out a pot of gel. He smoothed it over his hair. Everything in order, everything in its rightful place. He took one last look at his uniform, at the symbol he'd been so proud of before drawing back his covers and slipping into bed. For the first time in a long time, he slept soundly.


	15. Prioritise Company Business

14th December 2008

The ShinRa building loomed high over the Midgar street. Even in the gloom of the early morning the brilliant light that streamed from its array of glass windows seemed to cast the world around it into a deeper darkness.

The two men had walked straight across the sector, and they hadn't prompted more than a respectful nod from the infantrymen on patrol. Even so, Reno's hand twitched awkwardly at the holster at his waist as they passed the hefty security guards that stood one at either side of the thick glass doors. Once again though, the men did little more than glance in their direction as they passed.

Reno's eyes darted around the entrance way. He was seeing everything in sharp definition today and his ears pricked at every noise. It was a strange experience to be walking through the headquarters of the very Company that they believed had called a chase on them only the day before.

The two men approached the ground floor lift. The red panel above the door flashed blue as they entered and then swung shut behind them. Reno leant back against the metal wall, at last able to relax. It was a relief to be finally left alone with Rude. He gave a low whistle.

"Weird vibe to the place today, huh?"

He glanced over to his companion. Rude grunted in agreement. His expression, as usual, unmoved.

* * *

Rude rapped on the door to Tseng's office with two short taps and it swung open ahead of him. He stood squarely before his leader, awaiting an explanation. Tseng's eyes narrowed as he studied his subordinates.

"At ease gentleman. I'd let them kill me before assisting a plot for your capture. You should know that." he added softly.

"Yeah… maybe" Reno replied, pulling out one of Tseng's visitors' chairs to take a seat. "But yesterday you told us the Company were out for our blood, so it's a little hard to relax in here, yanno?"

Tseng sighed, taking two slim files from his office desk. "I understand."

He handed one of the files to Reno and passed the other to Rude, who still lurked in the corner of the office.

Rude glanced down at the document in his hand. The title read: _Sector 7 strategy. _He didn't open it. Instead he took a long hard look at Tseng. Something had changed. His hair was different, that much was obvious, but this was something else… There was something sleeker, smarter about his appearance, something in his demeanour that was even more crisp, more efficient than usual. It reminded him of the Tseng of a few months ago, before any of this had happened. Rude frowned, curious. Something had changed since yesterday.

"Come in and sit down Rude." Tseng gestured to the chair beside Reno's. "I have good news. The President has kindly agreed to forget past grievances if you complete a particular mission for him. I think you'll find it serves Company interests."

Rude's eyes flashed in Tseng's direction. He'd expected a hint of sarcasm to accompany those words, but it was as absent from Tseng's expression as from his tone of voice.

Reno had begun to flick through the file. "And what will you be doing in this mission?"

"I have my own mission" Tseng answered flatly.

Rude moved closer to the group, placing his file on the unoccupied seat. "What's happening with the Cissnei mission?"

"We're no longer a part of that mission."

"And what if we, I dunno, _happen_ to bump into her?" Reno answered, with a shrug.

"Reno." Tseng snapped. "You know as well as I do that it's not a good idea for us be involved right now. Cissnei knew the consequences when she chose to leave the Company. We've helped her as much as we can. It's up to her to do the rest."

"Okay." Reno acknowledged, "but if we really do bump into her, I mean, we're not gonna…"

Tseng sighed. "You've already met her at Condor; she's going to assume we're still on her side. _If _you see her you can tell her she's on her own. After that…"

"We follow Company policy" Rude finished.

Reno rounded on his partner. "You're okay with this?"

"No" Rude answered "I just don't see we have much of a choice."

* * *

_Company business. _ Tseng reminded himself as he lingered before the tall doors of the Sector Five church. _This was only Company business._

He'd thought a lot, in these past few months, of this Church and the woman he was about to apprehend. But every surveillance mission passed on to him from on high had found its way onto the desk of Reno or Rude. Just holding the assignment notes in his hands had charged those memories, had brought him back to the mako reactor where he'd stood by as a former colleague was admitted to the research program. They'd brought him back to his office desk, where he'd arranged for his subordinates to rally against ShinRa, to rescue a fugitive from certain death; and they'd brought him back to the time when he'd failed, when he'd first heard of the massacre outside of the capital, when he'd turned back to business in full knowledge of the man who was dead on the hillside. So, no, Tseng hadn't been back to the Church, not for a long time.

He'd often wondered about the way she looked now. He'd been around more often, in the first days. He remembered how hopeful she'd been, how she'd brushed her hair and put on her new dress, and waited, and expected. But expectation was as transient as the fading days, and before long her shoulders had slumped, her beautiful face grown tired. As hope had faded, Tseng's culpability had increased, until the air in the Church had become a just too oppressive.

He'd often wondered what had happened to her after so many more years of waiting.

Tseng shut his eyes as he stood on the Church steps. This was going to be the real test of him: whether he could look into a victim's eyes, whether he could look into _her _eyes and still do his job. If he could protect Company interests at all costs, then he was once again fit to be a Turk.

He pushed back the heavy wooden doors to the Church. A step at a time he made his way down the aisle. He scanned the room, glancing down every pew and in every corner. He'd been here often enough to know where someone might hide, but there wasn't as much as a flicker of movement in the building.

That left him one other line of enquiry… Aerith's house.

* * *

He hadn't even made it through Sector Five before he spotted her. She was instantly recognisable; almost shining out through the drab of the slums. She was different from how he'd imagined though. Quite different. She wore the same pink dress that she should have cast off years ago, and her eyes weren't the ones that had gradually darkened in the months that past after the Nibelheim assignment. They were alive with strength, with purpose, and she charged through the slums like a woman who had far more to do than sell flowers to the city-folk.

Watching her, he couldn't help remembering the crumpled note that had appeared under his door the other day.

_Male… early twenties… SOLDIER First Class uniform…spiky hair... oversized sword…_

He'd checked and double checked the information. The man hadn't been the one he'd first suspected. Too many things were out of place – different accent, different hair, different gait… but it had been such a long time since he'd seen Aerith with so much spirit.

He squeezed his fingers into fists. He was over-thinking this again. Her state of mind was nothing to do with him. All he had to do was go in, retrieve the target, and bring her back to base. Nothing he hadn't done a thousand times before.

He pressed his back against the alley wall, waiting silently for her approach. _This was all just Company business._ He timed his movement impeccably, stepping from the shadows just as she reached the alley. Catching her arm in a firm grip, he pulled back his jacket just enough to let his rifle gleam in the street light, his finger darting over the trigger.

"Are you coming Miss Gainsborough?" Tseng asked, coolly. "Or do we have to make a scene?"

Aerith caught his gaze in a long, cool stare. Anger and fear flickered in her eyes now… and disappointment. Disappointment above all. But she nodded, and followed by his side as the pair disappeared into the crowd.


	16. Do what no one else can do

**A.N. A big thanks to Me_obviously for allowing me to pick her brains for technical information for this chapter. Yay for readers who can fly helicopters! I hope I got the details vaguely accurate!  
**

* * *

On the edge of sector 5, there was a patch of land, just a small patch, where the Plates didn't meet. It had always been a place of interest for the people of the slums. Some would stop by here in the day time, eyes shut and faces aglow as they basked in the only natural light available to them. Others came at night, boyfriend or girlfriend in toe, to gaze up at the stars when the sky was clear. Still others waited until it rained, and stood, arms outstretched as the cold droplets spattered on their arms and hair. From early morning until early dusk, the area was always bordered with children, awestruck and full of curiosity as they looked up, incredulous, at the open sky. Today, though much more of a crowd had gathered and it was something different that had caught their interest. For the first time in a long time, a ShinRa helicopter had deigned to visit their hovel.

Distinct groups had already begun to form amongst the little assembly. Some cheered and waved as the chopper settled onto its landing pad. Others stood back, crossed armed and silent, watching on in disdain at the peoples' mindless affection for their oppressors. Some even muttered their annoyance, but that was all they dared to do.

Aerith had never been to this place before. She'd stayed behind alone when the children of the slums had run off in excitement to stand in the open air. She'd evaded Elmyra's plans for a picnic. She'd even refused the hopeful pleading of someone who had once cared for her, who had longed to show her this little patch of daylight, although in recent years she'd begun to see that as something of a missed opportunity.

As she walked through the crowds now, head bent low to the ground, the people seemed so loud, as they started at the sight of their little flower girl marching alongside one of the ShinRa big shots. The fresh air was harsh against her cheeks and the knowledge of the vast stretch of emptiness that loomed overhead somehow made her lungs feel tight and short of air. Everything was noisy and stark, so much so that she couldn't think straight. It was almost a relief when the door swung shut behind them and silence filled the vehicle. But then, of course, the pistol made its second appearance.

She stared for a moment at her captor, shaken and confused, but her stare was met by another, and it was cold and unyielding. Tseng gave a flick of his gun towards the floor. Slowly, reluctantly, she knelt, tensing to keep her balance against the sway of the ascending craft.

"Why are you doing this now?" she asked, her eyes betraying her anxiety, much as she fought to keep her voice steady.

"Get down." Tseng ordered, his voice strained.

Aerith's hands tightened into angry fists. The past few years had been hard, but they'd made her strong. No longer expecting anyone to come and save her, she'd learnt to rely on herself. The instinct she'd built up over those years made her want to resist, to fight back, but the barrel of Tseng's gun was pitiless and insistent, and as much as she'd fight to conceal it, Aerith was scared.

Several moments passed in silence as she crouched, the floor cold and uncomfortable under her bare hands and knees. Eventually her confusion won out over her nerves and she risked a second attempt.

"For all those years, you didn't do anything..."

An age seemed to pass between them, until Aerith began to wonder whether Tseng was ever going to answer. When at last he did his tone was brisk.

"The President has grown impatient. It's not my place to question his timing."

Aerith had barely begun to consider how she could press him further before the craft surged into a rapid ascent. She risked a glance out of the tiny window. Surely they hadn't reached the headquarters already?

--

Tseng grasped the safety handle as the chopper rose sharply towards the upper support. He yanked the lever on his right, sending the door swinging open in front of him as a blast of wind surged into the craft. He took a hold of the neck of Aerith's dress, pulling her forward. An innocent onboard ought to be enough to stay the rebel's fire. Blinking into the gale, he strained to get a clearer look at the scene atop the structure.

A young woman was bent over the computer terminal, while her comrades watched on in alarm. Good. So Reno had done his job.

"Cloud. I don't know how to stop it! Try it!" the young woman cried, scanning the controls despairingly.

Tseng raised a hand to his forehead. Cloud. He'd heard that name before, but he couldn't quite place it. His eyes shot to the man at her side, now leaning over the monitor. Tseng's breath fell short. SOLDIER uniform. Spiky hair. Oversized sword. Oh God, he'd seen that sword before. He flashed a look at Aerith. Not the slightest reaction. Hmm... perhaps he still needed to shake off the last of that overactive imagination. Aerith ought to be the first to notice something amiss.

"It's not a normal time bomb..." the pseudo SOLDIER's voice rang out through the screeching wind. He studied the monitor, at a loss. The rebels were panicking. Now was the time to strike. Tseng drew up his composure.

"That's right. You'll have a hard time disarming that one. It'll blow the second some stupid jerk touches it." He eyed Cloud pointedly.

"Please!" The girl span towards the SOLDIER, her eyes wild with desperation. " Stop it!"

Tseng responded with a low chuckle. "Only a ShinRa executive can set up or disarm the Emergency Plate Release System"

The third rebel, a heavy set man and the one Tseng recognised as their leader, raised a gun in the direction of the craft, preparing to open fire. He grimaced up at the chopper, his voice dangerously low. "Shut yer hole."

Tseng met his gaze, fearless. His lips twitching into a deadly smile. "I wouldn't try that... You might just make me injure our special guest."

The group turned as one to Aerith, noticing his captive for the first time. The young woman ran to the safety rail, screaming Aerith's name. Tseng frowned, perplexed.

"Oh. You know each other" he smirked. "How nice that you could see one another one last time. You should thank me."

The 'SOLDIER' stepped forward, outraged. "What are you gonna do with Aerith?"

Tseng shrugged, unmoved. "I haven't decided. Our orders were to find and catch the last remaining Ancient. It's taken us a long time, but now I can finally report this to the President."

Aerith's head shot up. "Tifa!" she cried "Don't worry! She's alright."

Tseng turned incensed, to face his prisoner. He wasn't in the mood for a challenge to his authority. He drew back a hand and brought it hard against Aerith's cheek. She fell back on to all fours, but her head was high. She called out once again to the insurgents.

"Hurry and get out!"

Tseng's arm, tensed for a second strike, relaxed. Why was he getting so agitated? What threat were they now? He may as well leave them to their pointless attempt at flight. He shrugged, suddenly tired of their company.

"Well it should be starting right about now. Think you can escape in time?"

With a nod to the pilot the chopper swept up and out of the area, leaving the rebels in the distance. Tseng pulled Aerith into the craft as the door flew shut before them. A deafening blast echoed from the plate. Tseng scowled, annoyed at himself. He'd waited too long to make his exit. This could be more difficult than they'd realised.

"Can you do this?" he demanded of their pilot, just as a deep groan echoed from the support. Both hands resting against the inside of the door, Tseng watched from the window as the plate above split with a sickening crack.

"I can handle it sir" the man answered confidently. A chunk of concrete tore from the ground above them, followed by another, and another. Tseng gripped the safety rail, gritted his teeth, and prayed that their driver wasn't overestimating his abilities.

The craft swerved to the left as the first of the boulders crashed past them, sending Aerith skidding across the floor. Before she'd had time to recover, they were veering right, just as another rock flew past the side of the helicopter, right where Tseng watched on through the window. He stepped back in alarm.

The pilot frowned in concentration, tilting the controls expertly to dodge another two boulders, then pushing the levers up and forward, sent the craft tearing ahead and out of the sector, just as a fresh barrage of rock clattered to the floor behind them.

"Good job." Tseng affirmed, as they regained a more natural speed. And it was a good job. On everyone's part. They had eliminated a menace. As long as law breakers like Avalanche threatened the people's safety, there had to be someone prepared to act to stop them. From now on that was what he was going to do. It was what being a Turk was all about.


	17. Put personal feelings aside

**A.N. Hi guys. I'm sorry, it's been really difficult lately to get access to a computer in the evenings. I promise I haven't forgotten about the story!**

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* * *

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"This is good. Very good," the President nodded vigorously, his second chin bulging out from under the first as he set down his newspaper at the side of his desk. Splashed in bold across the front page was the headline: _Hundreds die in terrorist atrocity_. At the side was an image of Sector 7, as it now was - safety fences bordering a heap of fallen concrete.

"You've done a good job here, Tseng," the President gave an indulgent smile. "Avalanche are going to lose every inch of support over this." His hands tightened into fat fists. "That'll teach them to interfere."

Tseng bent his head in a polite nod.

"And I must say," the President continued, shovelling a muffin into his mouth so that crumbs splattered across his chin as he spoke, "it's good to have you back on the right side."

"It's good to be back sir." Tseng gave a second nod.

"Yes, well. Very well. I'm sure you have plenty to do," the President replied, daubing his face with a folded napkin.

"Of course." Tseng turned on his heel and left the President alone to the rest of his muffin. After all, there was no time to waste. Too much important work had been sidelined in the rush to find Cissnei. It was time for a long overdue return to business as usual.

* * *

If she leant forward to look out of the driver's window Cissnei could already see the slim canon of the Sister Ray casting a shadow over the sea. She leant back against the wall of the van, frustrated, and rubbed her fingers over her temples, trying to summon another location from memory. Nothing. That was the trouble with the Eastern continent. Everything got swallowed up by ShinRa's cities: by Junon, and especially by Midgar.

Kalm was too near the Headquarters, Fort Condor was now quite obviously out of bounds, and there was no other real civilisation to speak of. Out on the Plains there was too little cover: even if she forced herself to forget about the bitter wind and the lack of shelter, she'd be much too easy to spot. Her only remaining option was to cross the sea. Not that that made the prospect any easier.

"At the coast at last, eh Alyss?" Darril grinned at her over his shoulder. "How 'bout I get us some food before we set sail. Maybe I can even convince ya t' come up front and eat with me?"

Her throat suddenly constricted, the best Cissnei could manage was a shake of her head.

"Ah well. Just a sandwich then, eh?" Darril turned back to the road. "Bet they'll have some real nice grub up in Junon. Fancy place."

Cissnei shut her eyes. This wasn't fair. If she let Darril take her through the city then he'd be as much at risk as she was. After everything he'd done for her that was the last thing that she wanted. But what were the chances she'd be able to find another driver who'd be prepared to let her onboard without too many questions? Even if she found one, she wouldn't have the same kind of leverage as she did with Darril. She glanced across at the boxes that were her fellow passengers in the back of the van.

She pushed her hands into the hair at the back of her head, staring at the van's floor as it rocked with the motion of the vehicle.

"Darril..."

"Don't tell me yer not eating! You must be starvin' by now!"

"No, it's not that," she said slowly, choosing her words with care. "I'm not the safest person to travel through Junon with, but if you're prepared to take me I think I can help you."

She looked up to see Darril frowning back at her through the rear view mirror. "And how is that, love?"

Her eyes flicked once more to the base of the van. If she said now what she had planned to say, there was no doubt that she'd compromise her anonymity, but if she didn't, how could she guarantee that she wouldn't be thrown out of the truck, or surrendered to the guards at the first sign of trouble? After all, he was going to find out sooner or later.

She lifted her head and looked directly into the mirror, meeting Darril's gaze with a serious one of her own. "I can help you to get past security with those illegal goods that you're carrying," she told him, her tone measured and even.

Cissnei thought she saw his eyes widen ever so slightly as she spoke, but apart from that there was no change in his expression. He held her gaze for a long time before guiding the vehicle to a halt on the grass.

"I think," he said at last, "this is a conversation I need to pull over for."

* * *

It took quite a display of self control for Tseng to suppress a frustrated sign as he entered the ShinRa lift. Heidegger was stood right in the centre, tapping his fat foot impatiently as he waited for the doors to shut. Not quite Tseng's first choice of partner to be shut alone with in a metal cubicle. Still, at least he wasn't travelling far.

His commitment to courtesy dictated the need for the slightest of bows, but nothing more. True, Heidegger was technically the executive in charge of the Turks, and of SOLDIER, and the army, but the army was the only one of the set that he handled with any competence. Besides, as Tseng liked to remind himself, competence was a relative term when it came to Heidegger.

By the mercy of the Gods, he didn't hang around for too long. The lift came to a stop on the 64th floor, a level that basically served as a recreation area for the higher ups among ShinRa. Tseng came up here himself from time to time, to work out or to get a few hours rest when his shifts were too long to stay awake, but his breaks too short to return to the Turks' building. Something told him that Heidegger had been summoned here more by the prospect of a nap in the exec's lounge than an hour in the gym.

As the doors began to shut again, though, something caught Tseng's attention. One of the rooms opposite was a temporary dormitory, a makeshift resting place for overworked executives. On the wall of the room was a flat screen television. No doubt that explained the crowd outside. Tseng held out an arm to block the closing lift door and stepped out after his head of department.

Clearly his eyesight hadn't let him down. Stood outside, and peering in at the television through a small window, stood Reno and Rude. Moving a few steps closer confirmed the worst of Tseng's fears. Rude's expression was, if possible, even sterner than usual. Reno's face was ashen.

They transformed instantly as they saw Tseng approach, Rude stood to attention, whilst Reno leant back against the wall of the room, an easy grin replacing the horror that had framed his features only moments before.

"What's up boss?" he answered, suddenly nonchalant. "More work, eh?"

"I'd like you both to come to my office," he replied, softly. Through the window behind them a frantic news reporter on the television was gesturing wildly at the mountain of rubble where Sector 7 once had stood. At the bottom of a screen was a counter displaying the number of people who were thought to be missing. As the three Turks stepped into the elevator the figures were nearing a thousand.

* * *

Tseng held the door open, gesturing to his staff to enter the office.

"Top secret business, huh boss?" Reno flopped onto one of the chairs that Tseng had set out for guests, resting an ankle on his opposite knee. "What's the job?"

Tseng shut the door softly and turned to address them. "Why did you become a Turk, Reno? Rude?"

Rude's frown deepened at the question. Reno leant back against Tseng's desk. "That's easy," he declared. "Chicks and violence."

Tseng gave a shake of the head. "That's no more than I expected," he glanced between Reno and Rude, "but whatever the reason, you need to keep it uppermost in your mind. This is a job that we chose for ourselves."

Reno eyed Tseng, dubiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"As Turks we are granted certain privileges, the ear of the President, access to the inner workings of the Company..."

"Snappy uniforms," Reno interrupted.

"In return," Tseng continued. "We have to protect Company interests, and follow Company directions at all costs. In any Company, especially one with the power of ShinRa, difficult decisions need to be made to maintain order. That is a truth that many people would prefer not to believe. We exist so they don't _have_ to believe it."

"I don't get you," Reno frowned.

"I do." Rude spoke at last. "It's our job to do what ShinRa want. Even if they're wrong."

Tseng nodded. "And they will be. Human beings are fallible. But if ShinRa fail, someone else will rise to take their place, and I daresay they'd make just as many mistakes."

"Today wasn't a normal mission," Rude spoke lowly.

"I know," Tseng answered. "Hundreds of innocents died and we were responsible." Reno continued to slouch against the desk, but his disinterest now seemed a little forced, and the colour was beginning to drain once more from his cheeks. "You may disagree with that. You have to do it anyway. That's what it is to be a Turk."

Tseng paused for a second, to give them the opportunity to object. No one spoke. Reno and Rude knew the deal that they had signed up to. "What I called you here to say," he continued, "was that if you hope to survive, you need to find a way to deal with what you have to do, whether that be 'chicks and violence', or whatever else appeals to you. You need to remember what first drew you to this job and you must work for that. That's something that I hadn't realised until now."

The rest of the meeting was subdued, and even Reno accepted the tasks he was given without comment or complaint. Good. Then they understood the scope of the job they had undertaken. Better to know now than to be caught off guard when they were confronted by a mission that seemed to terrible to undertake. Tseng massaged his forehead as the office door swung shut behind his staff. He shut his eyes, unable to suppress the memory of standing in spilt blood in a mako reactor, silent as a former comrade was carried away on a stretcher by white-coated assistants from the Department of Science.

He himself had been caught off guard by a mission. He had barely escaped with his professionalism intact.

It wouldn't happen again.

He summoned from memory a second image, of an intelligent young Wutaian, frustrated at the lack of prospects in his village and disgusted at the viallagers who hated ShinRa not for any logic or reason, but because "that was what Wutaians did." ShinRa had done a lot for that ambitious young man.

That memory was enough to help him deal with the things that ShinRa would ask him to do.

He was sure of it.


End file.
